Blind Endeavours:Part 2: Symphony No 5 in C Minor
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Lives are lived separately. Madeline and Sherlock continue with an afar symphony of romance while still attempting to maintain their lives- but a threat grows larger and larger and only they can feel the change coming. Sherlock/OC. Sequel to Blind Endeavours: Part 1 Concerto in D Minor. COMPLETE.
1. A Trouble With Names

**Welcome back my lovely Sherlockians and Cumberbabes!**

**Welcome to part 2! I have a couple of warnings/things to say about it sooo PLEASE READ:**

**First and foremost- thank you to ALL who commented on chapter 15, really it means so much to me. It makes me want to work even harder on this fic for all of you. Lovelovelovelovelove to each of you. **

**Now, on top part 2: It is shorter than part 1, it is only going to be 10 chapters and each of these chapters are going to be _considerably_ shorter than they were in part one- this is done with a purpose though! We're going to be moving through part 2 quite quickly- again- with a purpose! **

**I realize there are a lot of fics out there that get straight to the nitty gritty between Sherlock and whoever it is that he's supposed to get it on with, but this is a 10 part series and I'm trying to _really_ build a love/relationship that's _realistic_ and is _super respectful_ to the series and is not OOC for the series itself or for the characters. This is not a one-shot, this series is built for ongoing long-term enjoyment that WILL have a big payoff. Madeline and Sherlock have a _story_ to tell that defines who they are to each other in the end, and that makes all the difference. **

**This whole part (part 2) is a touch heart-wrenching in some later chapters.  
So you've been warned. **

**Enjoy, my loves. **

* * *

**Louisville, Colorado **

**1 Week After Leaving 221B.**

While the small town had remained the same- the same gossipers, the same day-to-day mundane activities and routine lives, much had changed for the remaining Smith family.

Michael, during his sisters prolonged time in London, had found unexpected love in Alexander- a man who had passed through the town and walked into the coffee shop one day- only to find himself to stay. Both men fell deeply in love and did not think twice about moving in together.

Madeline had found herself in an uncomfortable position since coming home having to live with her brother and his new boyfriend- but they made do until only a week after her arrival the couple decided to move out into their own home right next door- and get married.

During the wedding Madeline had to contain herself. Nothing like a gay wedding in the middle of a small town- yet all eyes were on her. She could hear what they said about her- _running away to London with that pompous man and his short friend… didn't you hear- she's adopted?_ Madeline had hoped to escape thoughts of the consulting detective, his doctor and her tragic background but since returning to Louisville- found she could not.

By the end of the wedding reception Madeline had taken it upon herself to take the remaining tear of the enormous cake into the bathroom, lock the door, and sit by herself while eating the whole cake with nothing but a fork sobbing loudly.

As she sat there she wept for the life she gained and lost so quickly at 221B- the life and the man.

Since leaving 221B only a week previous, everywhere she walked, everywhere she turned she saw him in his coat with that dark blue scarf wrapped around his neck. She dreamed of seeing him down the street more than she was worried about being confronted by her deranged biological brother. Granted she missed John like crazy as well- he'd become one of her best friends, but since she'd left things the way she had with Sherlock- there was no doubt her heart had grown fondly of the consulting detective in a way she'd never imagined it would.

Every time she picked up a pencil at the coffee shop during work she was afraid of finding his face drawn on the ordering pad- as it had happened 3 times already. As for her paints and canvases- they remained locked away in the back of her closet knowing his face was all she could see and it would find itself on each and every one of them.

And her ballet shoes- the one's he'd bought her, remained under her bed. Again, she found that every time she picked them up- let alone danced, she only saw his face.

And her dreams at night… _oh her dreams_-

"U-hu-huhhh-hhh…" she took sharp intakes of breath, swallowing another bite of the chocolate cake, setting her fork down. With her face swollen, Madeline wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She looked down at the empty cake holder utterly depressed. "I ate the whole thing." She commented to herself.

She hadn't eaten a whole cake since before having been to London, to Baker Street- before having met Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm emotionally eating." Madeline said to herself. "And I'm not dancing so now I'm gunna get fat!" She nearly wept. "Stupid beast!"

She knew she was trying to fill the void in her life now with cake- and it was going to take _a lot _of cake to do that. _Cake…_ Madeline found herself smiling at the memory of one of Sherlock's texts that he'd sent her while on her date with Jack-

_I thought John was here? Where did he go? Why didn't you tell me he left? I had to hear it from Irene just now. Also, how do you feel about painting a new picture, that one of John sitting by the fireplace that we have hanging above the fireplace seems redundant. I suggest you paint a picture of some cupcakes and we send it to Mycroft to see how quickly his weight fluctuates afterwards. –SH_

She had deleted all of the texts from him- as Mycroft told her before she left; she was to close all any any contacts with John and Sherlock for her safety. She had done so, as instructed… but she'd read those texts so many times from him that night that she'd memorized them. Even his old texts haunted her.

She smiled lightly, "Mycroft's cakes." Madeline cooed to herself giggling lightly at Sherlock's teasing of his brother's past obesity. She realized then that even while eating cake she could find a way to remember Sherlock Holmes.

Madeline rubbed her temples and bowed her head, slamming her eyes closed. She couldn't get him out of her head. His eyes, his voice- she actually missed his snarky comments and childish moods at every turn.

"I have to move on." Madeline said, knowing it was right. "There is nothing between me and Sherlock Holmes except death." She closed her eyes. "Pull yourself together, Madeline Smith." She took a deep breath and stood up in the stall, fixing her breasts in her (currently) slightly tighter dress, "You have a life to live."

* * *

**221B Baker Street **

**London, England **

John sat flipping through his paper and watched his friend/flatmate rummage through their living room for his "secret stash" for the millionth time since _she_ left 7 days ago.

"Tell me where they are!" Sherlock begged, "Please, tell me!" he pleaded. John had rarely seen him in such a state and knew that his need to chain smoke had _barely_ to do with not having back to back cases- and **_so_**_ **much**_ to do with _her_. "…please."

_Oh he's attempting to sound civil- how quaint._ John thought. _…And creepy. _"Can't help, sorry."

"I'll let you know next weeks lottery numbers-" John snorted- _boy he is getting desperate._ "Well it was worth a try." Sherlock mumbled.

John pondered as Sherlock took a dive to the ground, viciously searching through their things. Since she'd left he was… off. Very off. More so than usual. John couldn't deny it, he was worried about his friend- even more so after the fact that he'd just deduced Mrs. Hudson into a near state of tears.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that all about?"

"You don't understand." Sherlock mumbled, wrapping his arms around his legs, swaying himself back and forth on his chair.

Momentarily John forgot the question that had been plaguing his mind since _she _left due to the fact that Sherlock was, once again underhandedly insulting him before going back to whine about not having another case.

"You've just solved one! –By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" John shouted at his twitchy friend. Sherlock groaned and bounced his legs and fingers relentlessly as he sat in his chair.

"Ahhh that was this morning! When's the next one?"

John took a moment to stare at his best friend in thought- did he _dare _ask?

"That's not all of it though, is it?"

"What?" Hissed Sherlock. John immediately began to regret his timing- Sherlock was in his antsy, moody, childlike state- but it was too late to turn back now.

"Well, you know, the thing we haven't spoken about in a week…" John said, a deep grumbling resonated through Sherlock's chest as he squinted at John, _My god is he **growling** at me? _"listen, I've been really polite through all of this- detoxification of her-"

"Shut up, John."

"I've been really polite not to ask you, you know that!" John countered raising his eyebrows, his voice growing louder and louder, "But now you've just walked into this flat bloodied and now you're searching for your stash for the 10th time this week and since there are **no** cases walking through that door to amuse you at the moment- I seriously can't take it anymore and feel I deserve the right to ask-" He took a deep breath, "What the _hell_ happened when you and Madeline said goodbye?"

Sherlock remained staring at John with the same hardened expression and piercingly upset eyes; John was not intimidated and continued, "She came walking out of the flat unable to stop crying even when I got her through to her terminal, then when I get home after the airport- for some _freakish_ _reason-_ you're already asleep! Which is ridiculous because you almost never sleep. And then ever since the you woke up the next morning it's been bloody non-stop with you! Case after case, begging for cigarettes, deducing everything in site- driving Mrs. Hudson, and myself- might I add, up the wall with your behavior. SO I need to know what happened to cause all of _this_."

John was breathing heavily staring at his friend across from him who sat yet to be unmoved from his place or his expression.

"If you find me so _tedious_ to be with John, then feel free to walk out that door- it's there for a reason." Sherlock spat out before hugging his legs to his chest and turning on his side, burying the side of his cheek in his chair.

John took a deep breath and calmed himself; much like the time he'd commented that no one read Sherlock's blog to which Sherlock proceeded to march out of the mortuary- this was one of those rare moments in which he hurt Sherlock Holmes' feelings. _Well, whichever ones he has left._ "Listen, Sherlock, We've lived together for 2 years, I can deal with you. That's not so much the case here as it is the fact that she's _not_ coming back, and if this is just a phase, then that's fine- but Madeline Smith was not a phase to either of us." Sherlock's breathing took a sharp intake at the sound of her name still looking away. "I'm just saying I'd like to know what it is that happened… what happened Sherlock?"

Sherlock's demeanor calmed greatly, his breathing mellow for once in a while, "nothing of your concern, John."

John nodded, not really expecting an answer. "Well, ok. I suppose if you don't want to tell me- that's fine, that's your business. Just… know that I'm here for you." It was another one of those moments- those sentimental moments between them as friends that always were tense.

"I'll be fine, John." Sherlock said harshly and bluntly, sharply wrapping his robe around him before clearing his throat.

John nodded and decided to change the subject back to something comfortable for both of them- the possible cases.

"So… nothing on the website then?"

* * *

**1 year Later**

**Louisville, Colorado**

As hard as it was, Madeline had stayed true to her word and moved on with her life… mostly. She couldn't help but read John's blog and sign up for google alert for Sherlock Holmes' name. Everytime a new article came out about him she was alerted… and boy was she getting alerted.

He was getting recognized for all sorts of cases- the Reichenbach painting, the kidnapped father, the criminal wanted by Interpol- Sherlock Holmes was now famous.

All while Madeline Smith was still in her small town living her life- lacking and longing to be on those adventures with them.

Those pictures of Sherlock that were printed were difficult to look at. Each one of his stern looks towards the press was a reminder of that strange warmness she felt around his cold demeanor. And when that most recent photo of him wearing that deerstalker with a look on his face that held such an enormous amount of disgust and faux-happiness was printed- Madeline had giggled herself into a fit unable to stop.

She'd began to dance again, taking up intense classes as training ata decorated Ballet school miles away. The trip was a bit of a drive, but Madeline made it 4 times a week- she was intent on growing and getting better in her dance.

It had taken Madeline longer to pick up a paint brush though, she'd started (with Michael's insistence) by painting murals along the inside of the coffee shop. And while she didn't end up painting Sherlock's face all over the walls (much like she was certain she would have had she not been so careful) she painted London. Michael and Alex were a little confused by her new choice of theme- but went along with it anyways and decided to go along with it and add afternoon tea to their menu.

Weeks later Madeline had given Danny back his ring without a second thought. While he made his disappointment clear-he's already known that she was far past him and no longer loved him.

"It's not that _you've_ done anything wrong." Madeline had said over coffee, "It's just that… I've changed."

Danny nodded his head, "Yeah, you have. You ran off with that man for three months, I wasn't expecting you to come back and still be in love with me."

Madeline grabbed Danny's hand and squeezed it, his face still remained as handsome as ever but this time- she felt nothing. When she looked into his soft eyes, she didn't even remember that he was the guy who had bullied her in high school or the man whom she'd almost married- all she was was her past. "I'm so sorry Danny. Things just… changed."

After that Madeline had handed Danny the ring.

Madeline had felt somewhat bad about her treatment of Danny- she's supposed that she could have called him while she'd ben in London- but he hadn't ran through her mind other than just for a split second. Now her mind was… elsewhere.

The threat of her older brother- her biological older brother- was growing. She could feel something draw closer, she could feel the pressure of not having found those documents grow on her. Whether it was Sherlock and John's growing fame or the fact that Jim Moriarty _hadn't_ shown up in the papers yet- Madeline felt something coming… something big.

"Oh cheer up Mads," Michael had said that Saturday in the attic. He and his boyfriend, Alexander, had helped her search the house from top to bottom for the hundredth time that year. "We'll find them."

"What are these papers for anyways?" Alex asked. Alex, even Madeline had to admit- was rather cute. He was from Maine, with bright blue eyes and dark sandy blonde hair. He'd come over next door to Madeline's house with Michael every Sunday morning to make them all pancakes for their weekly search. Alex was much quieter than Michael who still remained out and loud.

"Oh no sweetie," Michael said, placing a kiss on Alex's cheek, "don't worry about it. you just stand there and look pretty."

All three of them broke out into laughter after a long exhausting day. As Madeline sat on an old wooden bench in the messy attic, she perched her face on her hands, unable to stop worrying.

"I'm sure it'll be ok, Madeline." Alex said rubbing her shoulder in comfort.

"Come on babe, let's go clean up the kitchen for her." Michael said grabbing Alex's hand, "we don't want to come home finding her licking syrup off of her plate again."

Madeline wasn't even paying attention as they left the attic, she was lost in thought.

It had been 1 year since she'd left 221B, and 1 year since she'd decided to move on with her life and find those documents… and it had been 1 year since she still could not find them.

_"Whether you're consciously aware of it or not- you know where they are somehow. And as long as you're alive- heart, those documents can be found." _

She remembered Sherlock's words well- "Oof." Madeline whispered rubbing over her heart with her fist at its sudden sharp jump…. she tried not to think of him often.

Each day that she didn't find those documents was a reminder that she had something that made her a target. And while they kept her alive- they were also the ticket for her death.

"It's ok…" Madeline whispered to herself trying to calm her nerves down. She reached into her "emergency" pocket and pulled out a Mars bar, immediately she bit into the candy nearly eating half of it at once. "As long as Sher-" She almost said his name- again. "As long as _he's_ alive… I'm safe…"

_"He knows that I won't let him get to you. So he has to get through me first, and he and I have only begun to play his little game…" _

"He's still alive." Madeline attempted to rejoice, "So I'm ok."

But there was a gnawing. A harsh gnawing that was away from her heart- it was in her gut. She felt something coming- or rather, someone… there was a harsh change in the air, and it was all going to happen soon.

* * *

**Told y'all! moving quickly! **

**Please do comment! I'm so excited to be back posting and I do find each and every one of them incredibly lovely. **


	2. An Uninvited Visitor

**'Ello 'Ello everyone! Yet another chapter! I'm still on a high after the premier of Doctor Who and if possible it makes me even _more _anxious for series 3 of Sherlock. **

**I'm EXTATIC about my reviews! Thank you to Rz970316, ****aorangeinboston****, "Guest",****Crosslit Heavens** , **Amehhh, Deathcab4kimmie, Midnight Valentina, Consulting Demon****, ****Zayren Heart and Lindsay.** **I ruv you all.**

**Also, an announcement, a new gif of Madeline has been created by Lindsay in case you want a better look at our heroine and what I've pictured her to be. The link is on my profile page. **

**Onwards! **

* * *

It took only a flash of a moment- a split second, for her to realize who this was.

Madeline Smith, by no means, was a fool.

Clumsy? Yes.

An overeater? Yes.

Perhaps her emotions were a touch too bipolar.

And perhaps her mouth had an extra touch of sass to it.

But a fool? No.

Madeline Smith knew about people. She was well aware of logic and of gut feelings.

This was both.

He didn't need to introduce himself- the man, _oh no_, no need at all… she already knew who he was.

It was half past three when he walked in to the busy coffee shop. Madeline was discussing with Michael and Alexander about possibilities of a new espresso machine for the shop given its new theme. Strangers always got attention when they walked into Louisville, and this man was no different.

With his dark hair, black eyes and square jaw- the little glimmer in his eye as he threw a dashing smile to the other customers, he was even more frightening in that moment than if he held a tommy gun in his arms. His weapon was his smile, his charm that he could turn on and off like a light, and that was horrifying enough.

Madeline's stomach clenched; she had been waiting for this moment. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the past year, day after day wondering when he would arrive. She'd played it so many times in her head that she knew the drill by heart.

Alex and Michael gave her a strange look when she declared she would go home early. "Fine, get out of here, Italian." Michael teased, but his always-playful demeanor was nothing to comfort Madeline. As she left she could feel the man's eyes on her as he sipped on his freshly brewed tea- she didn't dare look back.

Madeline didn't even bother to lock the front door, especially since he'd find his way in one way or another. She was scared beyond belief, even brave Madeline couldn't deny that. Her legs leapt up the stairs to her room (which was the master bedroom since Alex and Michael had moved out 1 year prior). When she reached it, immediately her hand went to the heart pendant around her neck- but it seemed to not reassure her. It only served as a reminder for what she was left alive for.

With her hands shaking, immediately Madeline sat on the end of her bed, opened her laptop on her lap and pressed the second bookmark on her internet bar (John's blog being the first), but the second was an immediate link to a Google News search of 'Sherlock Holmes.' Immediately her eyes began to desperately scan the still familiar news stories, "Nothing new." She mumbled under her breath, relieved to see that he must have still been alive.

So if Sherlock Holmes was still alive…

then what was Jim Moriarty doing in her home?

"So touching…" An animated voice echoed. Madeline jumped, she could feel her heart beating loudly in her chest; she dared look up but could not see him in her doorway. "Don't worry- he's still alive…" She could hear the Irish accent that hadn't left his voice since he was a child, "for now."

Madeline cleared her throat and closed her laptop putting it off to the side, _be brave Madeline… be brave._

"Then to what do I owe this visit?" She couldn't have been more proud of herself; her voice sounded calm and collected… much the opposite of what she felt on the inside.

"Oh what, I can't stop by and say 'hello' to my _baby sister_ whom I haven't seen in a good 25 years?" Jim Moriarty finally walked casually into the master bedroom with a hand in the pocket of his beyond expensive suit and a smirk on his face as he stared at Madeline. "Boy do you look juuuust like them." He pointed a finger at her, perching himself against the doorway. "I remember going to the hospital with them and holding you for the first time... amazing how I felt nothing but power holding your little life in my hands. Boy did they looove you. You were their light, their 'sunshine' as mum used to call you, 'their little Madeline.' Now look at you- you're no one, and I'm everyone, I control everything in this big bad world- including you. ...If only they could see us now." Madeline felt her cheeks burn at his cruelness, " ...and I see you got their gift. I left it for you to find. So, in a way, it's a gift from me as well."

Madeline had to stop herself from reaching up to the pendant around her neck that he was referring to as she stared into his black eyes. "Oh, I don't know if I'd call this your gift to me. That explosion at the ballet last year seems much more suitable to call a gift from your character."

Much to Madeline's surprise Jim chuckled loudly, "Oh how lovely, I see you inherited the Moretti wit." A brief pause. "Look at us, brother and sister, reunited." He took a deep dramatic mocking breath, "it's so touching. I believe this is what you American's call 'an Oprah moment.'"

"Yes we would, except for the whole you trying to use me than try to kill me bit."

"Oh, sweetheart, no," Moriarty winced, "I'm not going to try and kill you, let's not be inconsistent- I _am_ going to kill you. Not yet though. Once I kill Sherlock, I'll just come back, collect, _then _I'll kill you. I have so much fun planned for all three of us."

The words Jim expressed to kill Sherlock made Madeline nauseous, the thought of that man dead broke her away from her fear of Moriarty and into a world of sudden panic that she knew she had to try and prevent, "You're here now, why don't you just make me find the documents now?"

"Oh, come on don't be a bore, Maddie, it's less fun that way. I have to kill Sherlock Holmes before those documents are even worth anything- they can't be used until he's dead so there's really no point." He sighed casually and looked around the room distastefully without a care in the world, "I like to take my time… play things out a bit. I like grand finale's. No rush, really."

"You won't kill Sherlock Holmes." Madeline said sternly. She was no longer afraid of him. As dumb as that might have seemed- she didn't fear him. She knew Sherlock, and although Moriarty would argue it- she knew Sherlock better than _he _knew him, even with Jim's expert analysis. And Madeline Smith always believed in Sherlock Holmes. "And don't call me Maddie."

"Aww…" He cooed stepping towards her, Madeline couldn't help but twitch as he stood right in front of her- she reluctantly looked up at him and winced as he rubbed his fingers across her cheek, "Sherlock Holmes in love with my baby sister and my baby sister in love with Sherlock Holmes… I can't think of which is more disgusting."

"He's not in love with me."

"Oh so naïve!" Moriarty exclaimed. Madeline grew increasingly uncomfortable at his close proximity and was glad when he walked away to her dresser, "_Love. _You ordinary people are so boring. Believe you me I don't think Sherlock Holmes ever intended to fall in love, especially with you…" He added casually, "Even I didn't even see it coming. It was just an added bonus for me in our little game."

Madeline let out a frustrated breath annoyed with him- she knew he was trying to twist her, manipulate her. It's what Jim Moriarty did, and she was not going to give in to it. "You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"You have no idea." Jim replied excitedly, "I have a big show coming up, a big happening, it's not in the fall but it'll be a lovely one. You'd think that I'd need you to convince him- but he's so _ordinary_, so easy. His heart is much more easier to burn than he likes to think. I have so many other options than you to use, which works for me 'cause I need you alive, baby sister." He turned back to her took out a piece of gum and popped it into his mouth, "And I need you to help me."

Madeline sat silently as she stared at him incredulously, "You're kidding me, right?"

"Oh no, see I never joke about business, Maddie." Moriarty folded his arms across his chest and chewed through his piece, "I promise you, baby sister, that if you help me find those documents now, I will not kill you."

"I can't trust you-"

"Oh believe me," He raised his eyebrows with a light smile on his face, Jim's eyes were wide as he spoke animatedly, "With this you can. I need those documents more than you realize. I need them, so much, in fact, that I will spare you and let you get on with your life here in Boring-ville USA if you agree to _willingly_ give them to me once found."

Madeline looked down at her lap and closed her eyes, _don't believe him, don't believe him _she tried to remind herself, but his demeanor was so… believable. She really believed that if she were to give them to her, he _would _leave her alone. "But John said you're so changeable," She said softly. "When he told me about the pool and how you almost killed them. How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Well, that is true." Jim perched himself up against her dresser, "I am quite changeable. It is a weakness of mine, I do admit it, my only flaw, really-" Madeline snorted loudly and shook her head, "but that was because Sherlock and his little pet had nothing for me that I wanted or needed. You on the other hand, will have exactly what I want, and exactly what I need."

"And who's to say you won't kill me once I give them to you as was your original plan?" Madeline countered, she stood up suddenly realizing that even if death was in her future- he could not hurt her now. She had the power now, perhaps not later, but right now- she did. "Why should I give them to you? Why shouldn't I give them to someone else, say- Sherlock's big brother, Mycroft? I'm sure he could give me great protection from you. My parents managed to do it once for 25 years only to have it figured out by Sherlock Holmes, I'm sure the Holmes brothers and I could find a way to do it again." Jim stood with a glaring look at Madeline, as she continued, "And who's to say I won't just… destroy them?"

"If you destroy them I will cut out your organs one by one and leave your heart for last just so you can watch." He hissed, all playfulness of Jim Moriarty gone. His voice was low and threatening. "You're playing a simple minded game with me- I've killed people much closer to me for much less. You should know that since they were our parents." He smiled at her, "I'm giving you an opportunity here that I give _no one_. It's a promise and I give you my word on that. And if you don't agree, I will come after you, forcibly take them from you, and turn your world into a living hell. I will inflict more pain on you than that night I had mummy and daddy stabbed to death, understand?"

Madeline found it hard to stay still and not flinch as he spoke. Even though they were about the same height, she felt his shocking menace shadow over her. Sherlock's words and warning from a year prior ran through her mind, _'You don't know him, Madeline. … you don't understand who he is now and what he's like…. He could very well win.'_

Jim Moriarty was not to be messed with, he was, for the first time Madeline was seeing, an absolute demon. Suddenly, her previous certainty that Sherlock would not die at the hands of Jim Moriarty was waning. Her heart began to beat rapidly at the thought and reality of it, _'he could very well win.'_ Sherlock had said. _'Madeline you might have to believe it. I'm not immortal, as much as John seems to think I believe.'_ "Sh-Sherlock…" She stuttered slightly looking back up at Jim with wide eyes, "I promise to give you them willingly if you promise not to kill him."

"So sorry, no can do. These are not negotiations." Jim shrugged playfully his shoulder and his lips, "Sherlock Holmes will die either way. I'm just giving you an opportunity to spare _your _life because if you don't agree with me now, I will just take those documents from you when you find them and kill you. Don't be an idiot Maddie, take the deal. It'll be much easier on us all."

Madeline took a moments pause in silence as Jim watched her waiting for a reply, chewing his gum quietly. She knew, without question, that Jim was right. Only an idiot wouldn't take his deal, for anything else he assured her would result in her death- and he'd still get the documents, and Sherlock would still die.

Madeline opened her eyes and looked back at him, he stood bored and waiting. She replied to him fearlessly, knowing the answer was obvious.

"No."

Jim raised his eyebrows in question. "What was that?"

"I said no to your offer. I will not be giving you the documents when I find them." She took a deep breath, "If you're going to still try to compromise Sherlock's life- then you can go ahead and try to take mine… but I'm not worried because no matter what you say, no matter how insane you are- Sherlock Holmes is infinitely more clever than _you_. If anyone's going to be lead to their death, it's going to be you, and you won't even know it. …And don't call me Maddie."

Much to her surprise, Moriarty began to laugh out loud in a joyful chuckle, the lines surrounding his eyes crinkling up as he was suddenly having a good time. "So it's true what they say- love is blind." He took a final step towards her and looked down at Madeline with a condescending smile, she returned his look with a confident one of her own. "You lost your chance Maddie, pardon me- Madeline, you're always going to be watched by me- know that. I'm going to burn Sherlock first, then I'm going to burn you."

"Is that so?"

Jim nodded his head and whispered, "Oh yes it is. And know this Madeline Smith, even if I go and somehow my life ends, know that those beneath me will carry out my orders and the pursuit of those documents and your death." He added, "Have I made myself clear?"

"If I said 'no' would you give me that cute little recap again?" Madeline replied, but instead was given a little chuckle from Jim who began to leave her bedroom.

"Oh my, it's a shame you don't put that sass to better use rather than wasting it pining for Sherlock Holmes." Jim turned to her one last time, "He seems to be too much of a distraction for you, it's been a year and you still haven't found those lovely documents. Don't worry though, I'll get rid of that pesky little distraction for you, baby sis."

Jim Moriarty winked at her and bounced his way down he stairs and shouted, "Get back to looking. I'll be watching you!" before slamming the front door behind him.

And that was how Madeline Smith met Jim Moriarty for the first and last time since the day she'd been born.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed! This was the first chapter with no Sherlock in it, I hope I still have you all here and could keep you entertained with lovely Jim and the inevitable danger of our little Madeline. **

**Please, please keep sending me your utterly lovely comments I do really adore them all, they're all so easy to do and truly brighten the writing process along. **


	3. A New Arrangement

**A great big thanks to those who commented: valarmorghulis94, Midnight Valentina, Leelee909, Moonymarauders, Eva Sirico, and of course Amehhh .**

Mucho mucho love bits.

Allons-y!

* * *

**Louisville, Colorado.**

**Madeline Smith's home.**

**1 Year Later. **

Madeline sat by the phone. She waited, and waited… and waited for the only thing she knew was coming.

The inevitable phone call.

The past 2 days had been spent weeping _for him_. For her consulting detective.

Unable to get out of bed, unable to believe it… she waited for Moriarty's men to come for her, waiting to take her away.

Madeline Smith had given up.

Certain she was a strong independent woman, she knew now, at the age of 27, 2 years since having lived at 221B, that she could survive on her own- thrive on her own as she had since then. But she was fooling herself to believe what she'd known was false- all that she was telling herself about him was a lie. Madeline Smith was certainlya strong independent woman… in love.

She always loved him. So deeply.

Madeline had never believed in true love, the sort that could sustain time and distance, until the moment came when she learned what had happened- and how wrong her belief had been. She had once believed that perhaps she'd gotten over Sherlock Holmes when in truth, the distance had made her only long for him more.

It had started months ago, the fall, not too long after Jim's visit to her. Madeline's google alerts went off the wall as her brother was splattered all over the world news for trying to steal the crown jewels. But none frightened Madeline more than the man's name he'd written on that clear glass wall. She knew it then, the game- it was starting.

Since then, leading up to this moment after the fall nothing had been restful. The game Moriarty had developed was being played in front of the world's eyes- and everyone now believed the wrong outcome.

As tears dripped down her unkempt face Madeline threw the newspaper next to her in the fireplace as she shouted in anger at the top of her lungs.

"Is everything ok, dear?" Michael inquired softly coming from the kitchen with Alexander next to him. They'd decided to stay with her for 2 days since the fall. But so far Madeline had been unresponsive to them in anything other than fits of rage or constant moments of sobbing.

"NO." She growled, tangling her fingers in her unbrushed wild hair, "Just leave me ALONE!" Madeline shouted. She was in hysterics again. This was the third straight day and it wouldn't be long before Madeline Smith would lose all sense of sanity.

"Darling…" Michael whispered approaching her, he kneeled at the front of the couch right before her and looked at his baby sister compassionately, "He's not a fake. We knew him. It was right here in this living room when he deduced every little thing about you, and me, and Danny, and our lives- do you remember?" Madeline felt another knot rise in her throat as tears dripped from her swollen eyes, "He was magnificent… and you _hated him._"

Madeline broke out into genuine laughter between her tears, "God he was always such an asshole."

"And he was brilliant." Michael smiled at her, "and we know that. You know Sherlock. We know he's not a fake. You know him. It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks."

"But the rest of the world-" she sniffed.

"The rest of the world is filled with idiots, as he would say. _Morons_, he'd call them. Say they _have below average minds_ then give a little eye roll. …And you know he never cared about what the masses thought of him."

"But I'm not the masses…" Madeline's voice faltered as she spoke, she could feel another fit rise in her throat, "I love him, Mikey… always have, always will."

Michael wrapped his arms around his sister, snuggling her into his shoulder as she wept, yet again. "Shh… it'll be alright." Michael heard a hiss in the kitchen and remembered the tea. He turned to Alex who waited patiently behind them. "Go get the tea?"

"Oh yeah!" Alex exited to the kitchen but soon came back with a steaming cup of hot tea that they'd made. Since _his_ death all she would drink was either well-made tea or coffee black with two sugars. This was strange to Michael since he knew that Madeline never really cared for coffee or tea before.

"I'm going to spend the night here Alex, you go on back home next door."

"No, it's ok, I'll stay." Alex replied rubbing his hand against Madeline's back.

"No Alex, Michael, it's ok, really," Madeline said looking up at the compassionate man, pulling away from Michael, "I'll be ok, the worst is over." She turned back to look at Michael, "Maybe you should go too. It's getting late."

"But Madeline-"

"No, you listen. You go home and have nice quiet time devoid of my sobbing and emotional rage outbursts. Michael, you live right next door, if I need anything I'll just call you or stop by, ok?"

Michael looked resistant, as did Alex but they conceded. "Ok," Michael said, kissing her on the cheek and rising, "we'll give you some time to yourself. But you promise that if you need me at anytime- even 2 in the morning, that you'll get me?"

"Promise!" Madeline cracked a fake smile for the married couple's sake.

After they said their goodbyes and left, Madeline resumed her place on the couch waiting by her cellphone, waiting for the call. Michael had taken away her laptop as she'd cracked the screen more than once getting into fits of rage over articles that called Sherlock a fraud.

She stared at the cup of tea, its aroma was far too inviting. Madeline took a small sip from it and furrowed her eyebrows, she'd never had this brew.

"Lies, all lies about him…" Madeline said underneath her breath her eyes beginning to close, a sudden calm coming over her as the tea spread through her system, the warmness of the fire and the 2 long days of no sleep consuming her. Just as her eyes were about to shut close she caught sight of _his _picture in the fireplace that hadn't been burnt off yet. "Goodnight." She whispered to him as if he were there with her.

* * *

**221B Baker Street. **

**Same time. **

John sat in his chair, barefoot, staring at the one across from him.

The empty chair.

Since they decided to bury the body so quickly, having gone to the funeral just the other day. John was now making an attempt to return to 221B… an attempt that he knew he could not handle.

He could hear the footsteps come up the stairs, he knew who it was. And that person knew John wanted nothing to do with him now.

"John…" He said once he entered the room. John paid him no attention. "John, I know I am the last person on earth you want to see right now, but it is rather important."

"How can you…" John's words came out as a barely audible whisper still staring at his best friend's empty chair. "How can you just walk in here and talk business as usual, hm?"

"John I-"

"YOU helped put him in his grave!" John shouted, his temper rose within in a millisecond as he turned to finally look at Mycroft who looked solemn and quite exhausted. "You just stay the _hell _away from me." He turned back to stare at Sherlock's empty chair.

"John, this is about Madeline." John showed a little twitch at the remembrance of her name, but continued to remain passive to Mycroft. "Now that Sherlock's gone, she's on the map. And I realize that staying at 221B has been a bit of a task for you, according to Mrs. Hudson. Perhaps it might not be so bad to… check in? Since Sherlock is… well, now it can't do her any more harm for you to get back in to contact with her. Maybe take a little bit of time away?" Mycroft sighed at John's unresponsive nature and leaned on his umbrella before turning around, "give it a thought, hm?"

Mycroft exited, John heard a small mew from Mrs. Hudson indicating she'd said goodbye to him. She wasn't doing much talking these days either which was incredibly strange for her. Every once in a while she'd walk up the stairs and suggest that he start cleaning out 221B since he made it clear he was going to move to a new place whenever he would find one… yet he could never bring himself to leave 221B for fear he might forget his greatest friend.

John hadn't needed Mycroft to remind him of what he already knew what would help him through, or rather, who.

* * *

**Louisville, Colorado **

Madeline awoke from her deep sleep hours later, finally feeling refreshed, at the sound of her phone ringing. The number was unfamiliar and long- she knew who it was.

"John?" She answered closing her eyes once she heard his voice.

"Hello, Madeline."

Madeline could hear the despair in John, she could feel the tired knot rise in her throat again because of it. Perhaps Madeline loved Sherlock deeper than she ever loved anyone, but the bond between John and Sherlock had already existed before she even came along. She was well aware of this as she was of the fact that John and Sherlock loved each other deeply and without question as well. Her heart broke for John even more than it did for herself, John had lost a brother by losing Sherlock. …Madeline still had hers.

"'How are you' seems like the dumbest question in the world." She sniffed.

"Same for you." He took a deep breath. "Listen, I was thinking, since it's ok now for us to…"

"Communicate?"

"Yes, I was wondering… listen, I just need to get away from here. From London, from 221B, from all of the memories of h-… I know you have your own issues with Moriarty, Mycroft mentioned he made a stop at your house, but I thought maybe you might need some more help trying to find those documents and we could get through this together- just… " Another deep breath, "Can I live with you for a little while?"

A small smile grew on Madeline's face, the first one in days, "I was waiting for you to ask me that. Come as soon as you can, John. I miss you. …I miss him."

* * *

**Louisville, Colorado.**

**Madeline Smith's Backyard.**

**Hours Earlier. **

_'**Stop**…' _He pleaded in his head over and over for hours on end. Having arrived only the previous night on a private red eye he'd found himself wanting to leave ever since. The pressure in his chest that would not relent was becoming too much. He could overhear every word.

"The rest of the world is filled with idiots, as he would say. _Morons_, he'd call them. Say they _have below average minds_; and you know he never cared about what the masses thought of him."

He listened intently, the first smile in days breaking on his face. A new found respect for Michael filling him. _'That's it, help her- this is madness!'_ He thought '_Weak, silly minded girl! 2 years later and she still can't control her emotions.' _

He knew he was wrong in this, of course. He knew for certain that Madeline was not weak nor silly minded- quite the opposite actually. He more often than not found himself impressed by her and her ability (much like John) to see things and the world in a way that he never could. To be so strong willed and have skin thicker than he had himself. So, in his naturally unique manner, he found himself resulting in inaccurate anger because her pain was too much for him to face so vividly.

He decided then and there to break his own rule; only for a moment. He couldn't leave knowing what a state she was still in, and sleeping on the bench in the backyard through most of the night listening to her weep had done a number on his back and on that relentless squeezing sharp pain in his chest. He could admit to himself what that was, at least that much now, for the evidence was glaring him in the face as it had done for the past 2 years. But it didn't mean he had to like it… or face it.

He quietly tiptoed into the kitchen from the back. Rummaging through his pockets, he finally found what he was looking for. He'd brought it just in case, hoping he wouldn't have to use it. But it was becoming too much- two days of watching her suffer was too much. He could no longer handle it anymore. He poured drops of the relaxant medication in her tea.

She needed a long deserved sleep without the tears he'd had to cause.

"But I'm not the masses…" Madeline's voice faltered as she spoke, she could feel another fit rise in her throat.

Sherlock's arm paused momentarily at placing the vial back in his pocket. He remained staring at the tea in front of him.

"I loved him, Mikey_…_"

This moment felt familiar to the one he felt while watching John at his grave. It took every inch of him not to walk in there and yell at her for being such a fool, for being sentimental… for believing in him when she had every reason not to.

"I love him, Mikey… always have, always will."

The familiar pain he'd grown accustomed to hit him again. Sherlock closed his eyes and attempted to remain calm, steady… and focus on anything but her. '_Get out, get out, get out' _ his brain alerted him and encouraged him.

"Shh… it will be alright." Michael said, "Go get the tea?" to Alex.

Without a second to delay Sherlock snapped back out to the backyard in complete silence, jumped over the fence and walked down the dark street of Louisville Colorado. Sherlock ripped the phone out of his pocket as he made his way downtown where the assigned car was waiting.

"Goodness dear brother, we seem to be speaking more now that you're dead rather than when you were alive." Mycroft droned. "Any movement on her end?"

"None yet. She hasn't found the documents and it doesn't look like he's going to make any moved until she does. We need someone in on her end that won't look obvious."

"My thoughts precisely."

As Sherlock got into the car, the driver pulled away from the small town. Sherlock paused, "How's John?"

"You only left him yesterday, much hasn't changed."

"Has he made any indication?"

"He's thought about her, misses her company and friendship- that is for certain. My eyes tell me that he was seen at the ballet last night right after revisiting your grave."

"_He hates the ballet_. Give him a little push. She needs him here as soon as possible." Sherlock growled, upset with himself and that John had visited his grave again. "We need **_John_ **to help her find those documents, not Michael and Alex."

"That much is evident."

"Good then DO IT." Sherlock shouted at Mycroft with a growl, growing impatient.

Beforehand, Mycroft would have none of Sherlock's tantrums, but since the fall… "Consider it done." The older Holmes replied, "He'll be within the U.S. by tomorrow. Your flight back to England leaves in an hour. Oh and Sherlock…" he paused, "How're _you_ handling her reaction to your death?"

Sherlock hung up the phone.

"I just received orders to take you to the airstrip." The driver said.

"Good well then _do it_ and **leave me be**." Sherlock snapped raising the partition. He growled once more and sat back in his seat, wrapping his trench tighter around him.

_'I loved him…'_

_'he went last night to the ballet… right after revisiting your grave'_

His brain betrayed him with thoughts of others, Sherlock slammed his eyes shut and nearly shouted at the top of his lungs in frustrations. They were safe for now, it's why he had to fake his death, but there was a part of him he rarely felt- a part that wanted to make himself known to spare their-

"_Emotions." _He hissed to himself.

Suddenly, with no warning, a flash of remembrance to the day two years ago in which he and Madeline kissed goodbye. And during that moment, for the first time in his life, he felt such a way as he had; and for the first time felt his heart drop to the floor at the sight of another's tears.

…Sherlock wondered then, in the car that was taking him to the private airfield, whether Madeline looked the same crying in her living room over his death just now as she had when leaving him for her safety 2 years ago.

"Stop it!" He literally shouted at himself. He rubbed his temples with his long fingers. _'What is wrong with me?' _ Truth was, Sherlock Holmes knew exactly what it was.

And the wake of his own loneliness in his death only brought it further into light.

John and Madeline would soon be both together and away from England.

This was his only opportunity.

He had to focus. Everything was going according to plan. His death had gone through perfectly. Everything had lined up for him to do what he had to do- invade the late Moriarty's criminal web without alerting Sebastian Moran, his second hand man who was now in charge and in hiding.

But sentiment, sentiment was a dangerous emotion- he especially knew that. And it seemed no matter what he did as of recently, it always found itself creeping its way in.

Sherlock looked up at the night sky; it was unusual, in London he wasn't used to seeing so many stars as he could see in Louisville, Colorado. "Goodnight, Madeline Smith."

* * *

**Sorry for the extra day wait! Here's a little sneak peek at what I'm working on, the title of the next chapter is called: "The Unlikely Sentiments of Sherlock Holmes." Let's just say it's a special little chapter that may take us a touch down memory lane. **

**Did you enjoy? I hope you did! **

**Please do comment. **

**Right…**

**Down…**

**There!**

**Comments are always so lovely. **


	4. The Unlikely Sentiments of Sherlock H

**Back! So sorry for the longer time to post but it comes with great news! **

**REALLY IMPORTANT UPDATE, PLEASE READ: **

**I've decided to make this part only 8 chapters so as to get to part 3 again, the Reichenfeels were too much for me so I had to chop down the 2 chapters that were pulling me down. ALSO: I've written the rest of this part so it's not a matter of writing it now, just a matter of when I post each chapter! We'll be going through this part pretty quickly now which means we'll be leaving to Reichen-feels behind sooner and onto the reunion! **

**Wow my reviewers are the greatest… I love you all so much. I wish I had all of the time in the world to explain to each and every one of you what your words mean to me. I am reading your reviews while I write each and every chapter. You guys make this all worthwhile and you make me want to work my hardest to write this series the best way I know how. I appreciate every one of them and I'm always waiting in anticipation to see what you say next. **

**This is for: **Majestic-Space-Duck, ciaofay, nic2mad, Crosslit Heavens, Valery Bubbles, Rz970316, Midnight Valentina, and Amehhh.

**You all give me some serious writing feels. **

**Geronimo. **

* * *

Having arrived back in London in the middle of the night only a day ago, Sherlock Holmes found himself undoubtedly bedridden; or, in his case, couch ridden. It felt as though an unlikely flu or bug had hit him, but all was pointing to the contrary.

"Well, you feel fine." Molly Hooper said standing up after her shaky hand came away from his forehead, "no temperature."

Sherlock only continued to twist and twirl his violin bow in his hand; the hair was now drying due to his lack of purchasing/using rosins on it. "Doesn't need them…" he mumbled stubbornly to himself.

"Are… are you alright?" Molly asked nervously, shifting from one leg to the other, looking down at him as he continued to lie on the couch nonchalantly. "Is it about John, or something-"

"No." His voice was blunt and left no room for argument.

"I'm not an idiot you know," She spoke softly, "I know it is."

"You know nothing." He spat harshly finally looking up at her defiantly. Obviously he was picking a fight, wanting to get his mind off of his… _emotions_, he'd had in Colorado.

"I know that it's not just John you're sad about, it's also that girl, Madeline." Molly swallowed and gathered all of her pride, Sherlock immediately looked down again, no longer twirling his bow, "You told me she just lived with you for a case but those months she lived with you- you changed, Sherlock-"

"_Molly-_" Sherlock warned, his voice getting dangerously low.

"And ever since she left, you've been different- more on edge, if even possible." She paused, "I helped you die, Sherlock, you owe me at least a little bit of honesty." Molly's voice shook, "I know you don't love, except for perhaps John and even with him you'd never admit to it, And that's not what I'm asking here- I'm **not** asking about love I'm just asking about-" Molly's voice got caught in her throat, this forced Sherlock to look up at her again. "But I need to know," he already knew what she was going to ask. "What is she to you?"

Coincidentally, Sherlock remembered John and Mycroft asking him the same question numerous times, each instance Sherlock having no response.

Sherlock's eyes remained emotionless as he looked away from Molly. He found his life more complicated while he was dead than when he was alive. Sherlock Holmes had also found more time, in his death, to reflect on his life, and the people there. How much longer could he get away with avoiding all topics of people? Not much longer at all, in death he had to face it. The loneliness was plaguing him; even Sherlock Holmes knew that, because the sentiments of the past were seeping in.

Quickly, Sherlock decided to take an inventory, begging to finally answer the question (not only for Molly) but for himself as well as to who she was to him- especially in the spectrum along with everyone else in the past life of Sherlock Holmes. This was the last thing he wanted to do, but knew in order to focus on the case ahead, he had to run through his… _sentiments_.

So he began to search, his mind palace racing for the place he last left them.

Finding them much quicker than he'd liked to have.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson- loving 'not-your-housekeeper' (but really my housekeeper), only decent cookies in London.

Relationship: godmother-type figure.

Mind Palace memory: Insuring abusive-bastard-husband's death in Florida.

Title: My Landlady.

* * *

Detective Inspector Lestrade- his actually named 'Greg' (strange name, doesn't suit him, always thought name was just 'Lestrade.' Will forget the 'Greg' bit conveniently) friend and ally (always remember is most likely blaming himself for 'death')

Relationship: Guardian/friend type figure.

Mind Palace memory: Accidentally pickpocketing a nude picture of his wife along with his I.D… haven't pickpocketed since.

Title: My Detective Inspector.

* * *

Molly Hooper- Pathologist, knowingly desperately in love with me. Smart. Good at her job. Owns a cat.

Relationship: Friend, ally.

Mind Palace memory: "what do you need?"

Title: My Pathologist.

* * *

John Watson- Already known inventory, and not enough time at the present to go through every moment, every… emotion.

Relationship: Best friend, Roommate, …brother-

**STOP. **

Title: My Blogger.

* * *

Madeline Smith- … ?

...

Relationship- ?

Strange little Madeline Smith from Louisville, Colorado.

How to define her.

Madeline Smith:

The Artist.

The Ballerina.

The Eater.

Biological younger sister of Jim Moriar-

Unimportant. Irrelevant. Does not carry similar traits or characteristics.

Mind Palace memory:

Allowing her to paint me believing I didn't know (later berating myself for such foolishness, still questioning own actions).

Watching her dance in the living room for John and Mrs. Hudson. (thought I wasn't watching_.)_

Watching her eat the entire contents of our fridge during a Doctor Who marathon (pondered studying the inhuman expansions of her stomach)

…Kissing her before she left. Smelling himself on her neck and skin as we did, knowing she wore my jacket and scarf just before coming out to say goodbye.

Finding her scent all over my jacket and scarf later due to her actions; not washing them for weeks. …_What has happened to me?_

Has declared her love of me (post-death guilt, obviously done in atonement, not real or honest.)

Title: …. Unknown.

* * *

_Unknown? _

Sherlock growled in frustration. He knew where he stood with _everyone._ He even knew where he stood with Molly's cat, but Madeline Smith remained forever a mystery. She somehow had seeped to be more than just a pawn in the biggest case of his career.

No matter how often he tried to delete the 'unimportant' things about her that had nothing to do with the case at hand, it never worked. No matter how many times he'd tried to define her- it never worked.

She was… odd. She should have annoyed him to his very core but she somehow managed not to.

Truth was, it would take the world ending for Sherlock to ever admit to love, even **if** he did love. Could he love anyone? **_Truly?_** A sociopathic man cared deeply for a select few, Sherlock had to face this reality on top of Bart's weeks ago. But Love? He scoffed at the word. He never understood it, and the fact of the matter is that Sherlock Holmes never really knew, or knows, what love is. Could a man who didn't know what it was to love ever love?

**_No. _**

He concluded. It just wasn't possible.

Taking a deep breath, finally breaking from his thoughts, his memories, his deductions, he looked up at Molly again- waiting patiently for his findings.

"Mrs. Hudson is my landlady, John's my blogger, you're my pathologist, and she's my… Madeline. I suppose. That's all she is. She has her function in my life, for the case, and for other things that don't mean anything. So it doesn't really matter, now does it. "

_The good news is that at least I'm not in love with her._ He prided himself silently.

Molly nodded sadly and swallowed, "I understand."

Sherlock looked up at her curiously, "You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"…Care to share?"

Molly shook her head, "No, you're not ready to hear it."

Sherlock bared his teeth at her, as usual, when it came to certain things- Sherlock Holmes was absolutely oblivious. "Why don't you just do us a favour, and say it now? I'm sure I'm more than ready." He was utterly upset suddenly that _Molly Hooper _knew more about something than he did.

"No Sherlock," Molly shook her head again, she sighed knowingly, "you're not. And I'm afraid when someone does point it out to you or the realization hits you on its own, you're not going to do well with that information." Sherlock squinted his eyes at her words, "You're not going to handle it well, Sherlock Holmes. I just hope that I won't be there for your breakdown when you do find out the truth, because knowing your past, it's going to be messy. I already watched you fake jump off a building once, I don't want to watch you do it again for real and by your own hand."

With that Molly Hooper walked away into her bedroom, leaving Sherlock Holmes in a messy pile of his own oblivious making.

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed! This chapter is different than the others, but I thought it was necessary as it sort of foreshadows what's to come in the many parts ahead… hint hint. Also, love writing through Sherlock's head. **

**Comments are loved to infinity and beyond **


	5. A Decision With Consequences

**Why yes, we are back so soon! Just trucking right along! **

**Special thanks to: Lil-Green-Leprechaun, HC, Midnight Valentina, Amehhh, and Majestic-Space-Duck for your lovely comments.  
**

**Here we go, one more time, everybody's feelin fine! Here we go now- yes yes yes here we go! Wiz-Chic has got the flow!  
-Sorry about that, I've had that song stuck in my head for ages. And now you know when I was a teenager I used to listen to N*Sync. **

**On to the story. **

* * *

It had been a good 2 weeks since John had moved in with Madeline.

He'd gotten all he wanted: peace, quiet, and a shoulder to lean on.

Madeline and John had shared everything together. Well… almost everything. She still hadn't mentioned how she'd left things with Sherlock; But they'd spent hours talking about him, laughing about him, crying about him.

They reminisced about their times with him in the day, and would search her house from top to bottom at night looking for those damned documents at night.

"We'll find them Madeline, don't worry." John always said at the end of every search, a hopeful smile on his face.

Goodness, sometimes she just wanted to cuddle his sweetness senseless.

John had began to assimulate in the town, especially not knowing when he'd be returning to London. He even began working at the coffee shop with Madeline, Michael, and Alex. But as the second week of his new inhabitance came, he sensed a sudden change in Madeline, a longing to see the life she'd once lived in London.

Being back to living with John again had brought back all of the memories of 221B. Her memories began to outweigh the danger her life was currently in. Not finding the documents was frightening, never finding them was horrific…. Yet all she could think about was him.

Madeline broke down into tears more than once after Ballet training in the studio's bathroom stalls, wishing she could've had him see her dance... just _once_.

"Hey!" Alex gently shook Madeline. She was watching the foam froth in front of her lost in thought as she was working behind the counter at The Coffee Stop. She finally broke out of her thoughts and turned to Alex apologetically, he looked more concerned than upset, "this is getting awkward, you've been frothing that milk so much it's about to turn into whipped cream. And the customer is waiting."

"Oh shit, yeah, ok, I'm sorry." Madeline topped the coffee with the enormous amount of foam and handed it (sadly) to the weirded out customer, who had also (coincidentally) been her music teacher when she was in 7th grade.

"Thank you, Madeline." He said turning away.

"Yeah, sorry about that Mr. Parsons."

Mr. Parsons waved understandably at her, mumbling about her not having changed a bit since being in his class.

"You alright?" John said softly to her from behind the cash register.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He looked at her in the typical disbelieving John Watson manner. "Ok maybe I'm thinking about things. Do you think it's crazy for us to go back to London without having found the documents?"

John shrugged, "I dunno, in a way you might be safer if you were to go there without them than with them. But god knows how long the patience is of whoever's head of the consulting criminal business now. I'll do my best to protect you, and so will Lestrade, but in the end it won't be enough."

"What about Mycroft?"

"He couldn't protect Sherlock from them, what makes you think he can protect you." John stated bitterly looking down, he licked his lips upset.

Madeline nodded, John was right, and she'd clearly struck a nerve she hadn't intended to. "What about 221B?"

_Great, not the best change of subject. _She scolded herself.

John looked up at her surprised, "What about it?"

"Mrs. Hudson calls me everyday to ask about you and she says she won't touch a thing because she knew Sherlock would have wanted you to be the one to go through it all." John sighed and looked down, just as he was about to reply Madeline noticed something outside the front door or rather- someone. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back."

Quickly she grabbed the scone from the display and bagged it, running out the front door. Everyday for the past couple of weeks she'd seen the same person, the same guy- sitting outside of the coffee shop from morning to night, never asking for a thing- never coming inside even after all of her offers that he could stay inside to keep warm, each time he politely refused. Madeline approached the homeless man sitting outside the door. "Hello again!" Madeline exclaimed, the young man looked at her strangely.

"..hello."

"Sorry, I've just noticed you sitting out here everyday and it's bothering me you're refusing to come inside. There aren't many homeless people here in Louisville, I was just wondering do you want a scone?" She handed him the bag, "I baked them myself."

"… Sure." He replied slowly, taking the bag from her, confused. "thanks?"

"No problem. Again, feel free to come in whenever you want, the people here won't bite." Madeline gave him one last smile and went back inside. The man only returned her look with a confused one.

As she walked back inside, Madeline spotted John unmoved from his seat. He was deep in thought, obviously pondering Madeline's recent suggestions. He looked up at Madeline with a sad expression. "What?"

"…you're right." He said, "So is Mrs. Hudson. We have to clean that place out. The sooner I move on from sh-Sherlock the better. "

"Excuse me…We?" Madeline inquired.

"Yes, we. Madeline, I don't think I can do it alone. Will you come clean it out with me?"

"Well… I won't deny I've been wanting to go back since the moment I left." Madeline let her eyes wander over to Michael who was laughing with a customer over one thing or another, "And Michael does have Alex now. You even said that it might be safer for me to not have the documents if I were to go back to London… And I have missed everything that was in that apartment… "

"So… book the tickets?" John inquired.

Madeline nodded decidedly, "book the tickets."

* * *

**Conversation, Revenge, and Order **

"So, back to London then, hm?" The mans voice was deep, calm, threateningly pleasant as he spoke into his cell phone. He stood behind in a private area where he would not be disturbed.

"Yes, sir, it looks like he's searching on her laptop for flight tickets right now."

"That's very bold considering they don't have the documents yet."

"Yes sir, or very smart."

The man paused, his beady eyes burning at his subordinates comment, "Smart, hm? So tell me, you think they're smart-"

"No, sir-"

"Would you like to join them? See how long you'll live? Because I assure you, they won't be lasting much longer so long as those documents are still not found."

"But... But I thought we needed Miss Smith to find them-"

"Well she **obviously** doesn't know where they are!" He screamed at his wits end, quickly the man caught himself and calmed down, reminding himself that he did not want to be heard by those close by. "My patience is running thin... that dumb girl and that pathetic soldier are going back to London for a vacation while her life is in danger. You want to know how I know they're in danger? Because I'm making it so. I'll finish the job."

"Well, apparently sir, they're going back to 221B to clean out Sherlock Holmes' things."

The man's heart felt as though it had stopped, he felt his blood turn ice cold in his very veins at the sound of the name, "_Sherlock Holmes." _He spat, "I am so sick of hearing about Sherlock Holmes- **the man is dead** and all I hear about is Sherlock Holmes!"

"Sorry, sir."

"No you listen," He breathed heavily, "you'll do well to understand that I still want every one of their movements tracked. They're under **our** control now, you understand? There is no more _Sherlock Holmes_ to protect them. This is our game now."

"Yes sir, of course sir."

"My beloved Jim underestimated his powers of persuasion and ended himself as well. He left it up to me to complete the task, and I will underestimate no one- not even the useless small town Madeline of bloody hicksville Colorado- do you understand?"

"I understand, Mr. Moran, Sir."

"Good." Sebastian leaned his head back against the cold hard wall, his demeanor calming, "We'll let them go to London and have their heyday of idiotic sentiment. It's regardless, the man is dead. And if they're not back to looking for those documents in London as well since Colorado seems to not be where they are, send a message- kill the doctor. He's useless and is only getting in my way."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

**Woo woo quick update! The walls are closing in kinda quickly, huh? We're getting closer! Don't worry, this may not all make sense right now, but lets just say this is all a... set up for what might/maybe happen. Let's say. **

**If I had to choose between sex with Sherlock and getting comments, I would choose to read the comments in bed with Sherlock- or better yet have him read them out to me... that is how much I love them. **


	6. The Aggravations of Molly Hooper

**Another chapter! Yes! **

**Special thanks to: Alithe Cambree, Amehhh, Midnight Valentina, TheGirlWhoImagined, and Lil-Green-Leprechaun.**

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**Molly Hooper's Flat **

**Midnight **

Sherlock Holmes threw himself on the couch, utterly exhausted. It had been a long evening out. He'd spent the better part of the night with Mycroft (which in itself was an unbearable task) adding people to Moriarty's web. They were getting closer, and closer to connecting the dots. The unfortunate part was the only way the web would seem to break is by taking down its new leader- Sebastian Moran. Which was something Sherlock could not do. Not yet.

Sherlock had gotten many leads from The Woman as of late; she was helping him as a form of pay back since he'd saved her. Whenever Mycroft inquired as to where he got his leads, Sherlock would simply throw him a dangerous glance so as to not insult his intelligence.

He took credit for Irene's work at her request, as she still needed to stay hidden (much like Sherlock). In return for her efforts, Sherlock would make certain that when the time was right she could finally come out of her exile- due to this agreement he found he had not only her full cooperation but a sensible eagerness to get the job done.

However, her flirtations were relentless. They made him restlessly uncomfortable and less and less intrigued as time went by. She was undoubtedly throwing herself at him, especially now that she knew Madeline thought he was dead. This had been one of those exceptionally flirtatious text-messaging nights from her. Finally Sherlock had cut her off with only one text as he continued to lie on the couch:

_'Madeline may believe I'm dead, but do try to remember I'm staying at the flat of MOLLY HOOPER when I could be elsewhere. SH' _

Sherlock didn't mean to use Molly as a scapegoat, but he concluded that Molly wouldn't be upset that he was falsifying a relationship between them to keep The Woman off of him just for a bit. Hell, Sherlock was quite certain that Molly Hooper wouldn't mind him using that excuse for anything at all. But the truth was, after a long day, he found himself exhausted. Before, with John, Sherlock couldn't get enough of his cases, his mind constantly stimulater. This case, was unlike the others, and having no one to work with... effected him. Truth was, Sherlock could have gone anywhere in hiding, but he found since Molly Hooper was one of three people that knew he was still alive, and being 'dead' had brought out some new reactions in him, he elected to stay with her company. Because her company was better than no company. Sherlock Holmes didn't want to go mad, but he didn't want to be smothered either. So denying Irene Adler was the cherry on top to an arduously already smothered night.

And the last thing Sherlock Holmes needed right then was a woman throwing herself at him.

Molly Hooper threw her front door open, drunk and defiant. She pointed her finger at Sherlock as she swayed from side to side, "_you_ are **awful!**"

After finding time to roll his eyes, Sherlock quickly got up off the couch and closed the door behind her, "Shh, you'll wake the neighbours." He turned back to a swaying Molly, who was having a hard time keeping her balance. He could smell the alcohol coming off her like a bad perfume. "We've done well enough this time, but let us continue to try and keep me remaining a secret here. Lower your voice, please."

"I miss you." She pouted wrapping her arms around his neck, rubbing her face in his hard chest that smelt like the most wonderful cologne. "I hate you though. You're always so mean Sherlock! Why are you so mean?"

"Bad date?" He sighed annoyed, his words inquiring softly at an attempt to have her follow his lead and lower her still increasingly loud voice. He was used to Molly's touchy behaviour when she was intoxicated, which he found was every saturday of every weekend when she'd go out for drinks with her girlfriends.

Tonight was different though, she'd opted out of her standing date with her girlfriends in order to go out on a real date. Molly had hoped that going out on a date my make Sherlock jealous, maybe entice him to show some sort of interest in her more than a friend and if not- then maybe the guy on the date would actually end up being good and in turn help her get over Sherlock. But it seemed, due to her drunk state, that it was a dead end on both of her hopes that were dashed in one go.

"The worst. It was so bad. The date was awful. He was awful. He wore flip-flops with socks. He looked like a really ugly samurai with them."

"Come on then, off to bed."

Sherlock picked Molly up, placing his arm beneath her legs and the other around her shoulders. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck tightly as she sighed happily. In the past 2 weeks, he'd grown used to her strange attitude that was a combination of mousiness then of utter uncalled for boldness. Molly Hooper was a strange woman; strangely low-maintenance but very high on wanting attention. Sherlock had accommodated her, this was unlike the other times.

Most of the time in the flat he wasn't even there, and when he was he just simply ignored her. But tonight he felt something he wasn't accustomed to feeling so often, loneliness.

"We could just be like this you know." She cooed running her hands through his hair, "Me and you and Toby and my flat. No more couch for you, no more wearing makeup to bed for me."

"Why don't you just stop wearing makeup to bed all together? It's not giving me a false idea of what you actually look like without it. And it's quite obvious when you wake up and there's mascara around your eyes like a raccoon." Sherlock commented pulling back her sheets then plopping her into bed.

Just as he was pulling himself away, she tugged his face back in by craning his neck towards her. His body fell forward. Suddenly, Sherlock found himself lying on top of a drunk Molly Hooper.

"Molly," He commented, mumbling into the pillow, "you're extremely drunk."

"Good observation, Mister Holmes!" Molly giggled making him roll his eyes. Typically Sherlock wouldn't allow these things, and after such an exhausting night he wouldn't have let it slide, but since he'd told Molly that Madeline was… different, he (actually) found himself feeling a touch guilty (just a touch) for staying at her flat. It's not like she was under a false impression or anything, but still.

After that night, Molly refused to discuss what she knew about the situation that Sherlock did not know, it infuriated him but he decidedly let it go. But as time went on, whatever it was that Molly Hooper knew about Sherlock Holmes had drawn her into a deep sadness. Sherlock Holmes may be an insensitive man, but it would take an absolute moron to not hear her sniffing at night, trying to keep her light cries quiet all due to what he couldn't understand. So he drew his patience out as far as he could for Molly Hooper and hoped it wouldn't run out because hers hadn't ran out on him.

"Molly," He attempted to release himself gently from her clutches, but was surprised to find her looking up at him with a sudden sadness, her eyes glossed over. "Molly, it's time to let go."

"It's never going to be us, is it?"

Sherlock sighed trying to not seem impatient, this was the last conversation in the world he wanted to be having. "Molly, I told you-"

"No, I know, I know about Madeline. Gosh, even you- the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't even get it! How deep you're_ actually _in it with her!" She laughed bitterly with tears running down her cheeks, "I just wish she wasn't so lovely so I could hate her." Sherlock didn't respond, it was one of those rare moments in which he didn't know how to. "But tell me this, if you'd never met her, imagine yourself before then, did you ever think about maybe being with me?"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in a painful expression, "Molly I told you, you count-"

"Yes, I know, but not like her. She's… different." Molly sniffed gathering herself, seemingly completely sober. "Tell me, if she'd never been around and you'd never met her, if you'd never brought her here from the states those 2 years ago- could it have been me?"

"Molly, this questioning is absurd, because you're using a hypothetical within a hypothetical, it's a world that cannot ever exist because it has already happened in the past, and you're wishing me to ignore all of that logic in order to answer your question?"

"Yes." She replied quickly, nodding, "please."

As Sherlock looked down at her hopeful eyes, he found those… _feelings_ that were buried deep within him arise- and they were not surprising. But he found them hateful at every recollection of them. They were the same feelings he'd had during the Christmas party 2 years ago. When he'd hurt Molly. He hadn't intended to. And now Sherlock could only see two options/ two answers: the answer that would create hurt again, and the answer that wouldn't. This time, if his answer were to hurt again, it could not be fixed with a simple apology and a kiss; and the other answer that wouldn't create that hurt for her again and perhaps help her move on… maybe just a bit. Only problem was, the latter response was a lie.

"Perhaps." He said mustering up every inch of certainty in his expression to her, Molly's face softened, he added quickly "but it's irrelevant, Molly."

Molly nodded her head and wiped her drying cheeks. "I know. Because she's-"

"Because even she and I are irrelevant to one another, Madeline and I. I am irrelevant to everyone, Molly. **I have always been irrelevant**." Sherlock looked down with a slight harshness in his expression at Molly, "As are you to me. As is anyone in regards to myself.** I am** married to my work. Do not think or assume that I feel deeply, suddenly, because I don't. And to think otherwise is a fanciful thought of me that will only lead to disappointment. I am still myself and if anything me faking my death, even in order to save my friends, will not bring back those people back to be any closer to me, in fact, it will do the opposite. I am not Heathcliff in this story because in life and in death, I won't get any girl. Or possibly, anyone at all." His last reference knowingly to John. "I am not for anyone, nor have I have I ever been, nor will I ever be. Ever. Nothing and no one will change that. Do you understand?

Disappointment was clear on Molly's face, but she couldn't deny she already knew everything he'd just told her. "I know. I know that's who you are, and I still care about you just as much for it. I just… always wondered what it would be like, is all." She blushed madly and turned away from him. "You'll always be a mystery to me."

Sherlock sighed and looked away momentarily in his own thoughts, '_consider it a gift to her for all of her accommodations and it'll be interesting to see since Madeline was the last one… maybe that experience with Madeline wasn't all that special! Maybe it happens all the time? Yes! Of course! It must be, how foolish of me. Misconstruing my findings with Madeline, and here's the best shot I have at another set of data. Works out well for both of us, Molly's getting the experience she wanted and I am getting my experiment to finally prove to myself that what happened with Madeline was not special, that it happens every time. Yes, this will be good.' _

Sherlock's bright intense eyes snapped back to look into hers so suddenly, Molly was taken aback by their sudden intensity. Sherlock Holmes was determined.

Without a second thought, Sherlock bent his head down and captured Molly Hooper's lips in his own, she gasped at the contact. He was every bit as good as she expected. His tongue darted in her mouth as she simultaneously moaned into his, seemingly going weak at the feel of his lips. Sherlock took a couple of moments to search in her mouth for answers; and much to Molly's displeasure it was over far too soon for her as he pulled away only seconds later.

With Sherlock's full lips still puckered he looked away lost for a moment in his own thoughts, _"Interesting." _He declared to himself out loud before looking back at her, "Now you won't have to wonder anymore. Perhaps it's time to move on, Molly Hooper. Just when you finally do- don't cut me off from Barts." He rolled off of her and stood up, fixing his coat.

"O-okay. Th-thank you." Molly stuttered, finally finding her voice. She lifted her fingers and ran the tips of them against her swollen lips, her mind still too high from the kiss to remember this was the first and last one she would probably receive from Sherlock Holmes.

"No." Sherlock stated. He walked to her bedroom door and just as he walked out of it, he muttered to her, "Thank you, Molly Hooper."

His discovery had been significant.

Just as Sherlock closed Molly's bedroom door behind him, he rolled his eyes at the vibration in his pocket. "What now, Mycroft?" He answered, "I swear one more moment with you and I may _actually _throw myself off of a building this time."

"Charming. We've got a problem to address; your time in hiding may come to a quicker close than you anticipated. You'll never believe who just booked to come back to London in two days." Sherlock paused, his whole world slowly down suddenly. "…Sherlock?"

"I know exactly where they'll go first." He muttered, "Goodbye."

"No, wait, Sherlock, they-"

But before Mycroft could be heard, Sherlock closed the call, and threw his phone off to the side.

They were coming back.

Just in time.

* * *

**Don't forget to comment, y'all! Only two more chapters left before part 3! **


	7. Inconvenient Acceptance

**First, just to address why this story is in 10 parts and not just one super super long fan fiction. Quite quickly I'll ****just say because it is done in a format that slightly mimics the actual show. Each part of the fanfiction has its own purpose, the characters change, there are different themes happening. I found it would make no sense to create one extremely long fanfiction because it would be daunting, every 10 chapters you'd be somewhere else dealing with a new thing that's developed with no lead in, it would feel choppy and inconsistent. I didn't want to be lazy with this fic, I wanted it to be organized and as best as I could make it. So I planned every detail of this fic out and realized the best way to put it out there was in 10 parts. The moving from part to part is to indicate that there is going to be a shift in the story, to give sort of a fresh feel to each part/episode. Some parts are shorter (like this one) some are longer (like some upcoming ones) and as we go on you'll find the differences in each part, the themes that are being played in each one and the changes in the plots and characters. The first part was very introductory and young, this one is darker- the characters have developed a bit more, and the next one- well... you'll see :) By part 10 we'll be all in a different place, it'll be like graduating from Hogwarts after spending 7 years (or in our case, 10 parts) with the characters. **

**Hope that helps give a little backdrop to this saga! **

**LOVING all of you so hard right now. Shout out to my lovely adoring readers who commented! I wish I could answer you all individually right now- especially the two of you who've just discovered this fanfic, but alas that must be saved (in tradition) for the last chapter of each part- (which is the next chapter!) To my favourite people in the world: **ValeryBubbles, Lindsay Ruthann, Amehhh, Night-Weaver369 , Midnight Valentina, Amistoso, Lil-Green-Leprechaun, LiLiAnKa , Crosslit Heavens, the-wordy-lass, and TheLittleLillith**, **

**This chapter is for you.**

* * *

**London, Cemetery**

**2 days Later.**

Madeline Smith stood sadly, observing the exceptionally green grass beneath her feet.

This part of London smelt different than the central bit, of course. But it hadn't even mattered that the taxi was waiting for her to pay her respects, the meter still running and their luggage in the back. Whether she could afford it or not, she was going to take her time here. She'd came to say all she never could.

Madeline had changed on the airplane into her black dress, insisting that they go to the cemetery before doing anything else, she didn't know if she could walk into 221B without having seen Sherlock first.

"Sorry for taking so long," She sniffed, eyeing his grave from across the field, "I'll pay for the cab I swear."

"It's alright Madeline, just take your time." John comforted her. She looked at him and smiled before walking away. John took a seat on the bench, giving her the privacy she needed, and he would sit there and wait patiently until she finished.

She walked across the field far away from John; Madeline kneeled before Sherlock Holmes' grave on the dry grass and ran her hand across the cold dark marble.

"So…" She began awkwardly. Madeline never thought she'd be one of those sentimental people who spoke to tombstones; but since her parents had died when she was younger- Madeline had a new outlook on letting go of stupid inhibitions and finally just saying what you always meant to say.

"When I left you two and a half years ago, this was not where I thought you'd be. Where I thought I'd be. …At least we got to say goodbye." Madeline's voice began to crack, but instead she began to laugh as tears fell down her cheeks, "You know what I called you in secret? I call you 'the beast.' Not in a bad way- well, that's a lie actually, because in the beginning it was in a bad way. I still use it with the same reasoning about your character and yet… it's been in a good way since then." She wiped the tears that began running down her cheeks. "Funny how you can jump from bad to good in people's thoughts in an instant."

"Sherlock Holmes…You're such a know-it-all, an arrogant asshole who never knew when to keep his mouth shut or when to keep it open. You have the _worst_ qualities any girl could look for in a man- you're moody, brooding, annoyingly strangely chipper about serial killers, you say all the wrong things at the wrong time and are so mechanical like sometimes people wonder if you're human; and yet those are all the things I _adored _about you… imagine that. I always knew you had this small tiny creamy semi-sweet center in your heart that only so many people could get to, John was there, so was Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade… I _so_ wanted to get in there too."

Madeline paused and took a deep breath as the wind blew before continuing, "You know, my mother- not my biological one, the one that raised me in Colorado, the last thing she told me when I was 16 before she died in that car crash that very night was '_Maddie, you eat too much. Thank god for that Ballet cardio_.' It's the weirdest thing you know because now, when I think of those last moments I had with my parents, and with the last thing my mom said to me- I think of you. Before you, no, it was just they and I in my memories. But every moment I had with them, suddenly there you are. I think of you in terms of everything. I never thought I'd be that girl who thinks about a boy- a man, I mean, during every spare second. I mean- just the fact that you knew how much I hated being called 'Maddie' just from- whatever it was, my fingernails or my jeans or whatever, no one ever figured that about me and I'd never had the guts to say it, but you did."

Madeline's tears began to subside, a soft calm resonating throughout her suddenly, a warm breeze hitting her, "…Truth is I hate it when people called me 'Maddie' because it was what my mom and dad called me. I hated it when others called me that because deep inside of me I'd reserved it for them. You never once called me Maddie, you know that? You're the only one," She began to chuckle to herself, "At least that's one thing you knew to keep your mouth shut on. …I knew you avoided the nickname for me at all costs, you'd deleted calling me it from your mind palace, I'm sure because I could have sworn sometimes you came close- but you never did. And yet, every time you spoke… it's the strangest thing, but I always wanted to hear 'Maddie' come out of your mouth. Just yours. The first time I noticed I felt like that, that disappointment of not hearing you say 'Maddie' when everyone else was not permitted, I think that's when I truly knew I was deeply in love with you, and I would never break free from it. I'd reserved that nickname for the two people I loved more than anything in this world, and then, suddenly- you."

Many moments of silence passed. "I miss our adventures so much. I'll always believe in you, Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective, the beast. I told you while I was still in the hospital that Jim would never get to you, that he could never kill you before you killed him. I was right on that, but unfortunately I was wrong in your death. I will never not believe in you. I know you were not lying about who you are, because _I know you_. I know the real you. …or, knew you, I guess."

Slowly Madeline stood up. She kissed her finger tips and placed them on the top of the tombstone, "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes."

John Watson felt himself nodding off on the bench, it seemed like Madeline was finishing up her goodbyes to Sherlock's grave, but the jet lag and the intensity of being back at that cemetery was a bit much for John. His tiring activities were catching up to him.

He hadn't gone into a deep sleep, by any means. But what only seemed like seconds later, a red-eyed Madeline shook him awake. "I'm ready to go now."

John nodded, knowing the last thing she probably wanted to do was talk. They walked in silence to the cab.

As they settled themselves in, John's eyebrow's rose catching sight of the now extremely high meter. "Woe, hey Madeline, do you mind if I stop by for some cash at the atm?"

Just as she was going to reply with a rebuttal to let her help pay for the taxi, the driver spoke up, "no need, it's already covered."

"Excuse me?" John questioned.

"It's already covered."

"By who?" Madeline asked.

"I don't know, I'm looking down reading my magazine and the next minute I know 200 pounds are thrown on my lap about 30 seconds ago and this note."

John grabbed the note curiously from the driver; Madeline read it aloud, "_St. Mary's Church donation for loved ones visiting the passed souls." _

"Surprised you didn't just take the money and not tell us." John said surprised.

"Thought about it," The driver replied, "But you know, don't wanna mess with _him_." Madeline and John watched as he pointed his finger upwards towards the sky.

"Okaayy." John drawled out.

"Riight. Well. Ok. Good, we still have a ton of money left then, I want to make one more stop before 221B." Madeline declared.

* * *

**Bart's Hospital **

**20 minutes later**

Molly Hooper was humming as she filled out the paperwork for Mrs. Vladkin, the latest body on her slab. "Cause of death:" She mumbled to herself, "heart attack."

"Molly!" A familiar voice said.

Molly was still surprised to see John Watson walk though that door- mostly because he always had walked in through those doors with Sherlock on his side. She had been informed by Sherlock that they were coming and most likely would be stopping by the morgue. Sherlock had been out all morning, no doubt keeping an eye on them. "Hello J-" Molly's smile fell as she caught sight of none other than Madeline Smith. Or, _Sherlock's American _as Molly thought bitterly of her from time to time during those late lonely nights.

"Hey Molly," Madeline said slightly downturned, she was still dressed in black and her face was free of makeup, it wasn't hard for Molly to realize the sad expressions and black clothing were clearly because they'd just come back from the cemetery. "It's been a while, how are you?"

"Oh, I- I'm fine. What can I do you both for?"

"Well, we sort of need to see a body." John said.

"What, new case?" Molly joked. It was moments like these she forgot that she was only one of two people that knew Sherlock was still alive. Madeline looked worriedly at John, who's face fell in disappointment. "Oh gosh, no John, I'm sorry. That wasn't ok to say. So sorry." Molly's face blushed a deep red.

"It's fine Molly, " Madeline comforted her, "I just want to see the body of Jim Moriarty."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, utterly surprised, "well, he's already put away waiting to get transferred to be cremated. It's been a year, I mean, come on what makes you think_ I_ still have him?"

"Well," John began, "Because you just said so and as everyone knows they only received the body a couple of weeks ago. It was missing God only knows where. I'm sure it takes longer than a couple of weeks to re-examine the body."

"Well, yes, ok, but … anyways, I can't let you see him without proper documentation-"

"Oh come on now Molly," John countered softly, "you always did things like this for Sherlock when he didn't have permission from Lestrade."

"Yes, I know but it was always for a case or something. This I don't know, I can't let it happen," Molly said apologetically, not wanting to get in trouble, "I- I'm sorry but you have no rights, literally in the legal sense, to see him, Madeline."

"Yes, she does." A posh voice echoed throughout the morgue. Mycroft Holmes stepped forwards having just walked through the swinging doors, his usual umbrella in his hands an a large trench coat on his shoulders, "Madeline Smith has every right to look at Jim Moriarty, Because Madeline Smith was originally Madeline Moretti, who was once Madeline Moriarty."

Molly's face fell, her jaw dropping in shock. She may have been one of the minorities to know Sherlock Holmes was still alive, but this moment served as a harsh reminder that that was perhaps _all_ she really knew. Sherlock had barely explained a thing to her regarding anything _other_ than his death.

"I'm Jim's biological younger sister." Madeline said distastefully, "Unfortunately."

"ah.. oh… kay…" Molly said awkwardly, "Sorry, I didn't know. Well then, I dated Jim at one time- you should know. But before I knew he was you know…"

"A psychopath? And I know about you and Jim, John had mentioned years ago. He was a master deceiver, Molly, don't blame yourself. …he even had one up on Sherlock, apparently."

Molly kept her mouth shut and smiled at Madeline and John before leading them to Jim's box, with Mycroft following them. "So, just as a precaution, the back of his head is a bit… blown up, on a case of him shooting himself through it." Molly laughed awkwardly "And the body is a year old so he's going to be really blue/grayish, just as a heads up."

Molly led John, Madeline and Mycroft to the back room of the morgue, a room that was ice cold. John was careful to ignore Mycroft; clearly the Holmes brother understood his passive anger towards him for believing that he had a large hand in the 'killing' of his best friend. "How are you doing, John?" Mycroft asked.

"Fine." John replied sharply.

"I've been paying the 221B rent each month. Been waiting for you to come back and clean it out." Mycroft said casually, "Will I be expecting that to happen this trip?"

John, instead of replying, angrily cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Madeline. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it as Molly began to undo the locks. "It'll be alright."

"Thanks John." Madeline replied, but she nearly gasped as Molly quickly whipped out the body on the slab, it coming to a loud abrupt stop that echoed in the room.

"Sorry." Molly stated apologetically, "sometimes these things roll out a bit quicker."

But Madeline was no longer paying any attention to the others in the room. She let go of John's hand and approached Jim's body. He lay on the metal slab, expressionless for once. Madeline was thankful that his beady eyes were closed; she'd had nightmares about them from time to time since his first and last visit to her nearly a year prior.

Initially, Madeline hadn't known why it was so important for her to see Jim Moriarty; but as she stood there staring down at his lifeless body, she realized she needed to see him before her to believe it, to believe that the enigma that _was _James Moriarty was truly gone.

She'd wondered, since hearing about his death, if she would feel remorse towards him, if she would be sad that her biological brother had died. Not necessarily remorse out of knowing him or him being who he chose to be (and certainly not for the fact that his life intent had been to end hers or that he had been the death of Sherlock Holmes), but rather _because _he was her brother.

In that moment, right there in front of Jim Moriarty's dead body- Madeline's mind (strangely) yet immediately recalled the day she'd decided to turn down the Ballet company in New York and what had been her deciding factor, or rather- _who_.

She remembered finding Michael lying on the kitchen floor, an empty bottle of scotch on the floor as he cried for his misfortunes, his identity struggle, and the death of his/their parents. Madeline's heart had broken at the sight of him. _"Don't worry," _she'd said, sitting next to him on the floor letting him lay his head on her shoulder, _"We'll get through this. I promise. I won't leave you."_

4 months later, after rehab, Michael had been clean ever since.

The memory of Michael, the feelings she had when he was going through his hard times and the feelings she had when he'd persevered- Madeline knew that was love. And Michael was her brother. Madeline, quite awkwardly, realized she might appear of somewhat of a nutter to not have any emotions towards a brother who was her blood, and all emotions towards a man that did not share her blood- but rather had shared her life with her. This man that lay on the slab before Madeline was, quite simply, no one.

Jim Moriarty was no one to her. Madeline's real brother was Michael Smith- the queerest Sherlock-obsessed ex-alcoholic in Colorado.

"I'm good, Molly," Madeline nodded confidently, indicating she could put the body away now, "Thank you."

When they arrived back in the main room of the morgue a strange contentment had filled Madeline. Now that she had said goodbye to Sherlock and had given away Jim, she felt she could _finally_ move-on with her life. Or, at least, try her best.

"Madeline, John, it's good you're back in London but I should warn you, you'll need protection-" Mycroft warned.

"Yeah, we've got that. I'll just call Lestrade." John snapped.

"I'm afraid Detective Inspector Lestrade is still on probation for his dealings with Sherlock Holmes. He won't be able to offer you protection, I will." The room went silent. Molly Hooper begin fussing about with papers, feeling like she was listening in on a conversation that she needn't hear, or perhaps didn't want to hear. "Listen, John, you are quite rightfully angered with me, but this is for your protection and for Madeline's protection. My sources tell me the new head of Moriarty's old consulting 'business' is growing impatient. While Moriarty's flaw was being changeable this one's flaw is a lack of patience. I suggest you spend your time here in London- for however long it may be, to be looking for those documents as you clean out 221B." Mycroft's eyes moved curiously over to John, "Or they might get bored and take one of you out. …Good evening." With one last tip of his umbrella, Mycroft walked out of Bart's Hospital.

"Okay." John drawled out in confusion to Madeline, "well that's not good news."

"No, I don't think it is. I'm so sorry for pulling you into this John."

"Don't be ridiculous. I've lost everyone in my life that I ever cared about- except for you Madeline Smith." He smiled down at her, "You seem to be the only one left. Well, you and Mrs. Hudson of course. And risking life for people like you is not a shame at all."

Madeline returned John's smile as she felt her heart clench at his words and sad eyes; she embraced him tightly and almost didn't want to let go as she buried her face in his jumper.

Molly tried to clear her throat, to indicate that she was still there, but it was lost on deaf ears as Madeline and John were not going to end their comforting embrace soon.

* * *

**Baker Street. **

**1 hour later.**

In the shadows outside 221B that evening stood Sherlock Holmes. No one, of course, knew he was there. The evening was so dark that night, indicating that fall had finally arrived in London.

Since his fall he'd not returned to 221B for many reasons, one being that it _was _unoccupied. But as of 10 minutes ago- it no longer was.

The lights were turned on in the flat. No sounds were coming from the freshly opened windows, but he needn't hear to know who had entered.

John and Madeline had officially returned.

What they didn't know- was that they'd brought along some unknown company.

Sherlock observed the assassin across from 221B in the opposite building, the watchers walking along the sidewalk down below, and the informant "taxi driver" just down the block.

So, it seemed Mycroft had been under-exaggerating. He'd told Sherlock that there was no greater threat since they'd arrived- mostly because Madeline had not yet found the documents. Therefore, Sherlock should/could stay in hiding for a couple months longer. It seemed that with Sherlock 'dead,' his work on the case had become much simpler.

But no one could fool Sherlock Holmes. He knew the impatience Sebastian Moran possessed; and he also knew that Sebastian Moran thought he was on top of the world and could get to anyone since Sherlock was 'gone.'

'_Get to John…'_ Sherlock thought to himself, knowing that's who would be Moran's next target as a warning to get Madeline to hurry her search up.

Sherlock's coat snapped in the wind as he abruptly turned around. He would not risk John's life under anyone's protection but his own. This time he headed for the flat of Molly Hooper's for one of the last times.

It was time for Sherlock Holmes to come out of the shadows.

* * *

**Aww yisssss! Hope you all liked! Next chapter is the last chapter of part 2! Djhdskjhdkjhdskjh so many feels. Loving writing this. **

**Commentsssss = love :) **


	8. A Fatal New Game

**Ahhh I'm so excited! We've made it through the Reichenfeels everyone! We're finally going to be onto _new _territory outside of the canon of the show which means I can finally have my whole bag of tricks! Yisss! Prepare to suffer in the best most glorious way- because remember- it is out of love. **

**So, basically I want to marry all of you and have your babies- is this ok? I am loving the comments and all of you commenters: . , Majestic-Space-Duck, Crosslit Heavens, Leelee909, Alithe Cambree, Lil-Green-Leprechaun, Amistoso, Valery Bubbles, LePugly, LLPottle, Midnight Valentina, Empress of Verace, dalek bob, LiLiAnKa, Amehhh, and Lindsay Ruthann. **

**Seriously, can't say this enough, that time you spend after each chapter commenting is my fuel. I want to hug you all until it is socially and sexually inappropriate. There's just so much appreciation I have for all of you who've commented. **

**And to EVERYONE: please read the author afterword, there are some reminders in there to keep our journey going :)**

**So, without further ado, the final chapter of part 2. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

**Scotland Yard**

Detective Inspector Lestrade sat behind his desk solemnly. The paperwork was piled around him and for the past year it had done nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

After his wife had cheated on him (for the third time) just a few months ago, he thought that might've helped as well, but it was to no avail. Greg was partially thankful that he hadn't been allowed out in the field for the past year; this was due to the fact that he'd forgotten what it was like before having had Sherlock Holmes in his back pocket whenever a case was far out of his depth.

Whenever things got too serious or the clues didn't match up, Sherlock was the one he'd call and Sherlock would almost always be there. Greg was certain that had less to do with their 'friendship' (whatever it was) and had every bit to do with Sherlock's own personal interests at hand. Either way, the man had unintentionally helped out hundreds of people that had come looking for help when no one else could.

And there he sat, DI Greg Lestrade, one year into his probation and finally- _finally_, he was being set free back into his old post on the field.

As the numerous detectives walked in and removed the piles paperwork off his desk he feared he should have been happier. He looked through the windows of his office towards where Donovan sat, watching Greg worriedly with Anderson standing behind her. They wondered if their boss would be the same. Be the same man he was a year prior, before they helped lead Sherlock Holmes to his death.

_'No, not their fault,'_ Lestrade thought pointedly, _'Mine. I'm the one who reported it.'_

Everyday he reminded himself he didn't have to had believed what Anderson and Donovan had suggested, he didn't have to report it- and yet he did. He never once didn't believe in Sherlock.

Greg Lestrade had _always_ believed in his friend.

And from the moment those papers had piled up on his desk a year prior, and now as he sat watching them being finally removed- he knew for certain that his belief was his greatest secret, his greatest guilt, and his greatest loyalty.

* * *

**London Academy of Ballet. **

**6:12 pm**

The windows of the main floor exposed the dancers to the vibrant street. Most people walked by accommodated to seeing the young performers during their training period every evening on their way home from work, while other's sat at the coffee shop across the street and would watch with great interest. Watching a dancer perform- especially a well trained one in ballet, was like watching a piece of art unravel itself before ones eyes.

The dancer in question that was readying herself was none other than Madeline Smith.

"Concentrate, Miss Smith." Helga the instructor, demanded. The other girls watched silently as Madeline nodded her head nervously. "Clear your mind, don't think of anything- or anyone. Let all of your problems wash away. Nothing can hurt you here."

_Easier said than done._ Madeline thought grimly.

She got into position and closed her eyes, freeing her mind as best she could. As the music started Madeline executed every move, every turn and every jump to near perfection. Helga watched on with a well-hidden eagerness at watching the potential.

From the corner of her eye she could see the other ballerina's. They were all in the same age bracket of 24-26 as Madeline was, and in their faces Helga could see some worry and some envy at her near perfect performance. But not quite enough, Helga digressed.

While Madeline's movements were somewhat free and well felt, Helga knew when Ballerina's had something other than the dance on their mind. Madeline Smith was a clear example of that.

When she finished in second arabesque, the girls clapped and class was finished. As the girls began to shuffle out, Madeline stayed behind in place, knowing she could have done better.

"Miss Smith…" Helga said approaching her, "A word please?"

* * *

In the corner where the coffee shop ended and met an old alleyway, there stood an observant man. He watched as the old Russian lady confront the young dancer; no doubt informing her that while her dancing was good- her mind was otherwise occupied and it showed.

True, the young ballerina's form was exquisite and had improved very much over the past 2 years. But the question was- could she push herself that extra step to clear her mind and finally become the dancer she was meant to be?

The observant man did not know if this was possible for her. He watched as she walked out of the studio popping her headphones in her ears, walking down the street. He followed accordingly.

One year in hiding, he had grown quite well into not being seen. Even before his 'death,' Sherlock Holmes had been quite well at following others without their knowledge. Of course the best example being John Watson, but following Madeline Smith for the past 2 days was a bit of a different adventure.

As usual, after a hard training in ballet she stopped off at The Burrito Stop and ordered a 'Burrito Grande' otherwise known as their 7 lb. burrito. Perhaps one of the largest in all of London.

She'd sit at the corner table across from John Watson who would meet her after his work day, and she would _eat._ John ate as well, of course, he enjoyed the enchilada's, but Madeline _ate._ As usual she would woof down the burrito in less than 20 minutes and curse the gods as to why she would ever eat such a thing and then vow to never eat anything for the rest of the night.

It would be 20 minutes later when they would arrive back at 221B and Madeline would open a bag of crisps as they would watch reruns of the U.S.' 'The Office.'

Right then, as he watched her tilt the bag and eat the remaining crumbs in the bag, her face growing sad at the fact that they no longer had any 'good' snacks (excluding all the bad ones such as fruits and vegetables) something happened to Sherlock. As as he watched John pat her on the knee assuring her that the next day Mrs. Hudson would get them some more- Sherlock felt a stirring in his stomach.

This stirring was not unfamiliar.

Sherlock supposed it was just nerves at the thought of revealing himself, which was any minute right then. He was going to walk up those familiar stairs of 221B and upset everyone. Although it was hard for him to admit it- Sherlock was worried.

He knew John would forgive him, in time, of course. But Madeline… she was a pistol. He didn't know when she would go off and when she wouldn't. Her moods and outbursts were even more unpredictable than himself.

_Yes **but why** do I even care? _He berated himself unhappily, utterly annoyed that he would even think of it. _Stupid, Stupid, **stupid**._

But every time he saw her from outside that window, that same downwards spiral in his stomach would begin. Sherlock had this feeling that it was very likely that Madeline Smith would never forgive him for what he'd done.

* * *

**Inside 221B. **

**Same time. **

Madeline arose from the couch and crinkled the empty bag of crisps in her hand, going into the kitchen. "This is ridiculous, those bags should last more than 2 days."

"Not when you're eating them." John mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"Yeah, damn straight 'nothing.'" They joked but the atmosphere turned serious as John changed the subject to a rather touchy one.

"So, why exactly haven't you been painting lately?"

Madeline took a moment to answer as she washed her hands, "Why haven't you been blogging?"

"You know very well why not."

"I have the same answer."

"Well, it's time to move on. We have to." John said in his best 'doctor' voice. "Anyways that painting you did of me above the fireplace is fading."

Madeline and John turned to look at said painting. While the paint itself hadn't faded- its spirit certainly had. 221B was not the warm home it once was. John had always thought that Sherlock had made the flat a dangerous and sometimes cold place, but being in there without him felt…

"It's faded already." Madeline said drying her hands on her jeans.

"Oh we have paper towels."

"Oh I know; I just don't want to have to go get them out."

"Your laziness knows no bounds, does it?"

"It's not my fault things are so out of reach."

"I walked in to you trying to change the t.v. channel from the couch with your toes!" John said incredulously.

"I couldn't find the remote."

"It was _in_ the kitchen, on the counter in plain sight. Literally, 2 yards away."

"Well I already had my snuggie on and I was certainly not going to ruin my perfect comfort position."

In the sudden silence, John and Madeline lightly smiled at each other. They simultaneously realized this was their life together now. Two friends sharing an old flat. This was them, and they were ok with it. But the memories of another still sat with them symbolized in his empty chair (which John nor Madeline dared sit in).

"I miss him." Madeline said suddenly.

"Me too." John replied, "Bloody git. If he was here hearing us argue-"

"He'd hate it because it would have nothing to do with him." They both smiled.

"Always wanted to make everything about him. We let him though, " John concluded, "didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did. I don't regret it though."

"Neither do I." John smiled at Madeline softly, "So, since you're up already, think you're too lazy to go get your paint supplies?"

"John…"

"No no, come on now, hear me out, no change of painting you-know-who by accident. You're going to paint another picture of… anything. And I'll sit by and make sure that thing is all you paint. You have to start somewhere. Then tomorrow, I'll try blogging about something or someone else."

"I don't know John… what could possibly hold my attention to paint for that long anymore?"

He shrugged, "I ripped out a picture of Matt Smith today while I was at the Emergency-"

"I'll go get my supplies."

* * *

Madeline turned on the light in Sherlock's old room closing the door behind her. While she hadn't had the heart to sleep in there- secretly sneaking out to sleep on the couch without John's knowledge- this was the only place for Madeline to keep her luggage.

She'd avoided everything in that room like the plague. All of his items were like lava to her. Even though they were in 221B for the purpose of cleaning out all of his old things- neither had started on it. And neither had spoken of it quite yet.

Just as Madeline walked towards the door, the dark blue of his robe that hung on the back of it swung lightly from her movements. With the box of paints in her hands, she stared at it in a trance. 2 years ago when she'd left 221B his trench coat was there. She'd put it on and nearly drowned with it and his scarf before saying goodbye. She remembered his smell, his warmness that she'd felt through putting on his fabrics, the comfort and safety she'd felt in them just because she knew they were his.

Unconsciously, Madeline put the box down on the bed and walked towards the robe. She reached behind it and locked the door softly, just in case John decided to walk in. She fingered the silkiness of it; it was cold against her skin. Dust had gathered on it from hanging for 1 year and Madeline wondered deeply… _but I shouldn't._ She thought with certainty.

_I shouldn't. I'm not going to. No way. _

_…but what if it still smells like him? _

Against her own will, Madeline leaned forwards and took a quick sniff of the garment. "Dammit, Madeline!" She hissed softly, upset with herself that she'd done it and even more upset that his scent had, in fact, faded from the garment.

"Well…" She conceded mumbling, "guess it doesn't matter now."

Madeline took the robe off the hanger and brushed it off; as she slipped her arms through the cool silk she thought to herself, _what is it with me wearing his clothes? _But as she wrapped herself with it and got a sudden woof of his scent that had been hiding on the inside, she was immediately reminded of the answer.

She inhaled deeply, the sleeves far too long on her arms and the bottom dragging on the floor. His scent was faint, but it still remained there. She shuffled her socked feet to his bed and vaulted herself face first into it- boy was he still there. His pillow engulfed her face. Madeline wrapped her arms around the robe and shuffled her legs (which she unfortunately hadn't shaved in months), letting them embrace the soft fabric.

As she lay there in the castoff sheets and robe, his smell was much fainter than what she'd remembered 2 years ago. It was then Madeline opened her eyes and realized that it would continue to fade and sooner of later she would never be able to smell the scent of comfort again.

She'd accepted the death of Sherlock Holmes, but now, much to her dismay, she was going to have to let him go… in every way.

* * *

**Scotland Yard. **

**Same time. **

Greg Lestrade shook the hand of his immediate superior, the Chief Superintendent, as he was handed back his badge. "Very proud of you Detective Inspector Lestrade for holding out your probation this past year in grace."

"Really, it's no problem sir." Greg replied a false smile on his face, "Just happy to be back."

"Fantastic. Tomorrow you start up back out on the field again. Sally Donovan will be working with you again?"

"Is that an order or a question sir?"

The Chief Inspector observed the man, "You tell me, Lestrade."

Greg cleared his throat and nodded his head, "Yes, she'll be working with me. She was just doing her job, as was Anderson."

"Yes, she was, and a good job at that. She saw through that fake genius thank god before it was too late!" He exclaimed, "What was it, the next week he killed himself?"

Lestrade's fists bunched up, "The next day, sir."

"Humph." The Chief Inspector moved to leave his office, "I don't want to hear about that fellow ever again, Sherly? What was his name?"

"Sher-" Just as Lestrade made to answer in a near growl, a cold slick voice answered for him.

"Sherlock Holmes, was his name." Mycroft entered the office. "You'll be reminded of that again very soon." He closed the door behind him and smiled at Greg and the Chief Inspector. "Please do have a seat."

"And just who _the hell_ are you? And what the hell do you think you're doing in here this is a closed meeting! I'll have you arrested for this!" The Chief Inspector spat, Mycoft simply continued to smile without a care in the world.

Greg watched unable to blink, almost mesmerized at the scene before him. He'd only imagined moments like this. Of course, usually he'd be the one bitching out the Chief Inspector instead of Mycroft, but this would certainly do.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes, and I'm here to give Detective Inspector Lestrade, and yourself, some rather interesting news."

"Well, I'm afraid you have no authority here-"

"I'm afraid you're quite mistaken, Chief Inspector. I'm also afraid you have no authority with me." Mycroft tilted his umbrella to the chair across from Lestrade (who's jaw was still agape), "Now please, do have a seat."

* * *

_Madeline… _

_Madeline… _

**_MADELINE! _**

Madeline gasped for air as she jolted awake at the shout of her name. During her lay on his bed, she'd accidentally fallen asleep. Madeline wiped the drool from her chin with the back of her hand and stood up as best she could, swaying in her post-sleep haze.

"John?" She called out, there was no response.

Suddenly Madeline's heart fell to the ground, immediately assuming the worst. She silently berated herself as she struggled to unlock the door. Her head began to yell viciously at her that she shouldn't have taken that time off from looking for those documents. They'd gotten John.

Once her hands had unlocked the door, it flew open in a loud slam, quickly sliding her way in with the long robe on her out to the living room frantically.

"JOH-."

Immediately. Without a second of hesitation, his name fell short from her mouth.

There she stood, frozen, eyes wide, hair looking like a tornado had gone through it, jaw agape, a little bit of drool still on her chin, and wearing Sherlock Holmes' robe. What was before her was a sight that had only happened in her dreams or in her wildest imagination.

There, in his trench coat and blue scarf stood none other than Sherlock Holmes. He eyed Madeline's attire curiously.

"He's not real…" John gasped perching himself against the back of his chair, clutching for his sanity, "Madeline he's not real…"

Madeline, as well, could not believe it.

Sherlock acknowledged them each with a slight nod, "John, Madeline… good evening."

* * *

**Location: ...**

"Is the hit for the doctor still on, sir?' The curious voice asked, knowing the game had changed now.

Moran took a deep breath before replying, "…no. It's just on hold for a little bit. I think we may be on to something here. I'm sure Sherlock Holmes already knows the hit I put on his precious doctor, that's most definitely why he's come back. But maybe it'll put a little steam under him to urge that stupid girl to go back looking for those _fucking papers_."

"And what _about_ Sherlock Holmes, sir?"

Moran's throat seemed to burn at the sound of the question, a feeling of bile making its way through his words, "We'll wait for him to make his move, but only for a little while. There's no way I'm going to let him and anyone he loves live while he is the one who caused Jim's death, mark my words."

"And the girl?"

"... if she doesn't get them soon, I'll just take matters into my own hands."

"Yes sir, is there anything else?"

Moran turned in his chair slowly and twirled a pencil between his fingers, holding the phone firmly in his other hand in the cold room, "Yes, you make sure every one of our clients, everyone of my people knows that Sherlock Holmes is back… and we are officially at war."

* * *

It was quite certain to everyone involved- the game had changed. The stakes were higher, the vengeance stronger, and the clock was running out. Sooner or later someone was going to retaliate and someone was going to have to pay for the mistakes of them all.

**Fin.**

* * *

**I know you're expecting more from the Sherlock reveal, don't worry you're going to get it in the beginning of part 3. All in good time. I know this chapter was not as big of a climax as the finish of part 1 but this part is supposed to be more mundane than all of the others. So**** don't kill me! I had to leave you hanging just a touch but now we're on to part 3, Sherlock's and the mundaneness is gone****! **

**Here is some info on part 3, it's called: **

Blind Endeavours Part 3: Symphony No. 25 in G Minor

**Link to the poster is already up as is the link to the accompanying music to which inspired this piece. I suggest taking a close look at this beautiful poster that the wonderful Forever-Adream has made, it hints at what is to come in part 3, something that will change the story immensely. Mwahahahaha! **

**IMPORTANT INFORMATION BELOW: **

**MAKE SURE you're doing one or both of these things:**

**-Following/being alerted to me as an Author so you can see when I post a new story- this is the preferred option especially since this story is coming to a close now.**

**-AND/OR make sure you're being alerted on this story at the very least, because I'll be posting an extra "chapter" page HERE in pt.2 to alert when part 3 is up.**

**I will be posting the first chapter of Part 3 up ASAP because I can't get enough of writing for you all, my loves. **

**I wish I could make all of us tea and we could sit around for a day in the English countryside and talk about all things Sherlock. But alas, as every writer must do, I shall show my affection for you all through this fic. **

**Also, just as a reminder that if you comment feel free to do so on this chapter, this whole part, or this whole series so far! Whatever floats your boat :) **

**Much love, **

**Wiz-Chic. **


	9. Sequel now up! Part 3

First a great big thanks to all of those that commented: Amistoso, Lindsay Ruthann, CrosslitHeavens, the-wordy-lass, Nippa, LiLiAnKa, Lil-Green-Leprechaun, Midnight Valentina, Empress of Verace, EclipsedByTheDawn, Pyra Sanada, and Amehhh.

Second, this is it! The announcement!

Part 3 is here!

**BLIND ENDEAVOURS: Part 3: Symphony No. 25 in G Minor.**

**SUMMARY: Tensions rise as time is on the cusp of running out. Everyone's life is at stake and Sherlock may not be able to keep up as Moran's growing impatience takes action against them. Madeline and John wonder if Sherlock even has a plan or if their situation really is as hopeless as it seems. Sherlock and Madeline's lives become deeply intertwined.**

I'm not allowed to post links on here so go to my main author page and go from there. You can also see a link to the wonderful/incredible poster there and also the accompanying piece of music by Mozart.

See you there!

Wiz-Chic


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